Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy
by MysticScribe
Summary: Chapter 14. And now, his daughter had tied herself to Harry Potter with a smile and unexpected softness in her eyes– nothing more than innocent kisses, he hoped with a tinge of concern, she was too young but he had seen her determination.
1. Leaving the Dursleys in shame

_This is a translation of my ongoing "saga" (21 chapters online in French now), an alternative 6th year. It started as a dare and I got caught in it. I am improving it – so I wish – with the translation._

_Beware: You'll find soon enough I'm not JKR. Everything is hers. I am just having fun with the world she built._

_Beware: English is not my first language. I'm not bad with vocabulary, but if one of you English speaking grammatical geniuses would consider helping a French speaking grammatical would-be genius, it would be greatly appreciated. Just PM me. : )_

_Beware: I toy with canon and I integrate a few things from HBP. Some things will happen way faster. Do not take me too seriously._

_Still on with this? What a courageous reader you are…_

_What could lead Harry to leave the Dursleys in shame, are you asking? Well, let me fill you in._

**Chapter 1**

**Leaving the Dursleys in shame**

The sunlight was bathing a small, usually dark bedroom of a tidy house in Surrey. Sounds of vehicles going by and birds chirping could be heard outside while the thick smell of freshly cut grass was flowing into the room.

Harry Potter was lying on his back, his eyes wide open, in a bed that was becoming smaller year after year. His feet were alternately tapping the footboard in a slow, regular rhythm – left, right, left, left again, right -, his myopic eyes staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. The light breeze coming in by the open window sent a shiver down his spine although the heat rising was already announcing a hot summer day. Harry tucked the thin bed sheet under his chin and uttered a relieved sigh. This was one of the happiest moments of his dreary summer. An outsider would have only noticed a teenager in the midst of a growing spurt, with too long arms and hair. But that teenager was not an ordinary boy: the sharp scar adorning his forehead was itself the symbol of miserable years and too many losses.

Harry was addressing himself a large if not a little stupid smile: today, the _deliverance_ would occur. Harry never had Ogden's Old Firewhisky, but he was sure that the effects of drinking it would have been similar to the way he was feeling right now - frazzled and strangely light, as if the glorious summer day was getting to his head. Today, his birthday, was indeed a great day and he could not have wished for a better gift: he was finally leaving the Dursleys to join Ron and Hermione at the Burrow for that last month before the beginning of a new year at Hogwarts.

Arthur Weasley had left a few days before a short and hesitant message on the answering machine of the 4 Privet Drive, disturbing the polished atmosphere of the Dursleys' house.

«HELLO, DURSLEYS. MAY I PLEASE SPEAK WITH HARRY?» Mr. Weasley loved Muggle technologies and the idea of the phone was endlessly fascinating to him, even though he did not understand completely how it worked. His voice echoed in the house while Aunt Petunia recoiled from the machine with a small shriek. Uncle Vernon had an unpleasant smirk on his lips but the redness creeping on his cheeks gave away his uttermost irritation.

«You may speak normally, Mr.Weasley. Just leave your message.» Harry could hear a patient smile illuminate Hermione's assertive voice on the tape. He could not help but smile too while Petunia and Vernon looked at the answering machine with horror as Mr. Weasley's voice was expressing incredulity.«Oh. Are you sure, dear? I thought that somebody had to answer first before I can speak again. They are not there right now, so they said: how exactly will they hear me then?»

«Come on, Dad. Just do what Hermione says. She knows how it works.» Ron's slightly raspy voice was heard too and Harry was floored by nostalgia. He could not wait to see them again. Mr. Weasley spoke again, slightly perplexed, «Well…Harry, I will bring you back to the Burrow on the last Saturday of July, if it is still fine with the Dursleys.»

The message ended with a small click.

Aunt Petunia glimpsed nervously at Uncle Vernon: Harry could read in her face all her hatred of this unbecoming world of wizards, which threaten _her_ world each summer for six years now. Uncle Vernon's already sanguine face was turning into an unhealthy shade of red. Harry clenched his fists: he felt ready to fight.

By Merlin's beard, there was _no way_ he was not leaving.

To his surprise, Uncle Vernon threw him a despising glare and said over his shoulder, while he was leaving the kitchen, «Good riddance.»

Harry climbed the stairs two by two, almost not believing how easy it has been this year. He walked in circles in his small room for hours, picturing the uproarious reunion that would inevitably happen at the Burrow. He could not help but feel a small tinge of jealousy: Hermione had been at the Burrow for almost a month now, appreciating the Weasleys' kind hospitality, while he was sweating his brains out in airless Surrey. Everything must be safe if the Order could manage him out of here for a month.

But deep down, Harry had already admitted to himself he was afraid of returning one day to the Burrow as _persona non grata_. He feared the day he would become a nuisance to Ron and Hermione, who did not seem to have noticed - yet - they were turning into so much more than friends. He was also keenly aware of the danger he was bringing with him, a shadow menacing to engulf everybody around him. The day would come, Harry dreaded, when he would be unwelcome everywhere.

But on this promising day, all jealousy and fear were forgotten: lying down on the bed, his head resting on the pillow, Harry was rehearsing mentally his triumphant departure from Privet Drive with building anticipation. He threw his legs off the bed and slid his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He got up and looked into the mirror. It reflected him a tall teenager…nah, young man, with a newly acquired suntan, green sparkling eyes and a huge mess of jet black hair that was covering a bolt shaped scar. Harry could not help but feel a little proud: after all, he did take advantage of the suffocating atmosphere of the Dursleys house to give himself a great excuse to be outside all the time, sunshine or rain, and he felt quite happy with the results. Harry noticed with pride that he had built some muscles in the last two months.

It was more than the muscles, though. He was feeling slightly different: calm, secure, older.

Aunt Petunia had been suspicious of his sudden interest in gardening, as soon as he came back from Hogwarts, only a few weeks after the tragic events that occurred in the Ministry of Magic. For two months, Harry digged the soil, dragged heavy bags of peat and compost mixture, took obsessive care of the costly rose bushes, while answering without a peep to every whim of his aunt, who acted as chief supervisor. Aunt Petunia saw Harry's efforts recognized: she was awarded an early «Most promising garden » prize. The night she received her pink and white flower-shaped trophy, a little dizzy with the two glasses of rose wine she drank, Petunia grabbed Harry by the shoulders and _almost thanked him._ Feeling his aunt's bony fingers through his shirt got Harry shivering: Petunia was his mother's sister and his only parent alive. That extraordinary physical contact confronted him to the paradoxical desire of running to the other side of the room or to reciprocate, even with all she made him suffer through the years.

Those two months, he exhausted his body to clear out his mind. Harry crawled to bed night after night, his head free of nightmares. Voldemort, Dumbledore's Army, the Death Eaters seemed almost blurry when all of his limbs ached from the strenuous work he was commanding himself to.

But thinking about Sirius was like pulling his heart out: Harry had accepted that summer he could feel raging anger a minute and overpowering sadness the next. Some nights, when he had not exerted himself, he could see under his closed eyelids Sirius falling again and again behind the Veil with painful clarity, the demented laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange tormenting him as a chilling soundtrack. When it happened, he wept silently, his tear glazed face buried in his pillow, wishing to be in Ron's bedroom, surrounded by the security he had found at the Burrow.

To his astonishment, his scar did not hurt once in the last two months. His dreams were shadowy but peaceful, and he was managing to get a regenerative rest, which proved useful to keep his cool to face Uncle Vernon's bad temper and Dudley's sarcasms.

After trying unsuccessfully to comb his hair with his fingers, Harry pulled on a blue T-shirt and grey trousers, while throwing into his open trunk the clothes scattered in his room, his books, and other important things he would be needing for the next year. He closed the trunk, forcing it a bit, and dropped off his Firebolt on it. He then stroked lovingly Hedwig's immaculate feathers. His heart thumped in his chest when he heard a scream coming from the main door.

«KNOCK KNOCK!»

Mr. Weasley was certainly in a good mood as he sing sang the words at the top of his voice. «Why don't you use the doorbell?» chirped a familiar feminine voice.

Moving deftly, Harry made Hedwig go into the cage. He ran out of the bedroom, almost sliding down the stairs, happiness rushing in his veins. Uncle Vernon was rushing to the door as fast as could permit his massive silhouette, huffing and puffing, but Harry got to the door first. He opened the door and flashed a huge grin to Mr. Weasley.

Ron's father, in an attempt to make himself Muggle-like, was wearing huge sunglasses and purple shirt and knickers that Harry had seen on tasteless golf players, the colour clashing terribly with his thinning red hair. The familiar feminine voice he had heard was embodied by Ginny. She smiled widely in return and in a swift move, pushed back her neatly braided hair, a black cap covering her scalp. Harry was glad that Ginny, at least, had followed Hermione's Muggle fashion advice. Harry would not have bet on it but he thought he recognized his friend favourite pink sweater and patched jeans: he wondered if Hermione had noticed they looked much better on Ginny.

Seeing familiar faces made him feel happy and embarrassed at the same time. Harry could feel his mouth numbing as he addressed alternately to Mr.Weasley and Ginny his widest grin. He then saw Bill Weasley who had his back turned to him, his ponytail moving slightly as he was looking from left to right in front of the house and Harry noticed a weird hooded figure - that could only be Mad-Eye Moody - behind the wheel of a not so recent car.

Meanwhile, over his shoulder, Uncle Vernon was trying to identify who had the courage of screaming « KNOCK KNOCK » a Saturday morning in a peaceful community.

«But _who_ are you?» grunted Uncle Vernon with his usual poor sense of hospitality that he kept especially for wizards.

Ginny could not hide a frown and her face contracted into a disgusted expression. Mr. Weasley smiled again, prompting his hand towards Uncle Vernon, as the latter took a step back. «I... am… Arthur Weasley, Ron's… Ronald's… father… We have met…Ron…Harry's friend? This is my daughter Ginevra.»

Vernon Dursley had no interest for wizards and less so for the fathers of Harry's friends who articulate each word like he was some kind of an idiot. Before he could snarl an angry remark, Harry lifted a finger towards Arthur Weasley and spurted urgently, «I'll be ready in one minute!»

Ginny took a step forward, «May I give you a hand, Harry?»

For a brief second, Harry considered arguing that he was strong enough to bring everything downstairs, that he did not spend the summer working all that muscle to be helped with a simple trunk, a broomstick and an cage, but the glitter in her eyes made him say, «Well, why not? An extra hand is always useful.»

As Mr. Weasley was trying courageously to discuss lawns with a monosyllabic Uncle Vernon, Harry climbed the stairs hastily, Ginny on his tail. Harry stormed the room while she stopped on the threshold. As Harry was leaning to pick up his Firebolt, he saw on Ginny's forehead a long, fine graze that looked recent. Harry asked, his finger pointing her face, «Hey, what happened there?»

Ginny pushed back the cap with the back of her hand. Her fingers felt lightly the graze and she shrugged, her palms up to the ceiling. She took the broom from his hands, «That's nothing. Only a nice reminder that I have a clumsy brother.»

«Only _one_?» retorted Harry quickly, unable to hide the smile that was creeping on his lips.

Ginny's tinkling laugh made him inexplicably happy and her face lit up, «Well, for your sake, Harry, I will not repeat _that_ to my brothers. That's George's handiwork, if you must know. He scraped my forehead while he was…Oh.»

Ginny covered her mouth with a hand and gave Harry a shy smile, «You'll understand later. Let's get you out of here now.»

She squinted while her eyes wandered at the furnishing in Harry's room. He read a certain trouble in her eyes but also a glimpse of anger. Ginny whispered softly, «So is this the room where they confined you for all these years?»

Harry looked at the dark room, the broken furniture and the suffocating walls and answered, «Well, not all of this time. I used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. You must understand now why I'm ecstatic to get out of here.»

But Ginny was not looking at the room anymore: her eyes were gauging Harry. They exchanged a long look and somehow Harry felt uncomfortable. It was quite unnerving that it was neither Ron nor Hermione who was standing in his room, but _Ginny_. Of course, his friends knew how horrible staying at the Dursleys was but Ginny was the first one to see what it was really like from the inside.

Something shifted in Harry's stomach: he had the feeling that Ginny understood in a single look all his misery and for a reason he could not comprehend, he felt naked and ashamed. But Ginny broke the stillness of the room by moving gracefully towards Hedwig's cage, grasping it firmly. Before she turned her back to him so she could go downstairs, Harry noticed, with a slight alarm, that compassion had soften her expressive face.

Harry gulped: he did not want compassion or pity from his best friend's sister. He wanted… Harry felt two hot spots on the apple of his cheeks as he was acknowledging the unsettling truth: yes, he would have wanted to see…admiration, _maybe_, at the fact that he managed to survive the Dursleys almost miraculously each summer.

Lifting his case straight up with one hand, he followed her out of the room. Harry lowered his head, swallowing his shame, and focused on following Ginny's steps, his eyes not leaving the bouncy, shiny red braid in front of him.

_To be continued..._


	2. A shockingly emotional scene leading to

_Wow, many thanks to all of you for reading. I am happy you enjoy it so far._

_A special smile is dedicated to HPFAN whom I cannot thank enough for pointing me how to improve the grammar in Chapter 1. I will correct it soon. Feel welcome to comment again : )_

_Now, as we are getting into Chapter 2, I was dared by my torturer – ahem, sorry, friend - to write about the funniest/ ridiculous/absurd scene I could think of while threading my "serious" plotline and without betraying the characters. I don't know if I have succeeded at this, but I threw a few of them in the next chapters. I am begging you for mercy. _

_You are about to read now…_

**Chapter 2**

**A shockingly emotional scene leading to a – gasp - birthday surprise**

* * *

This car ride made Harry nauseous.

«Wizards should not be allowed to drive,» muttered Harry, clenching frantically the arm of the car door. Sitting beside him, her knee against his, Ginny was glancing at him frequently and he could read on her face she shared heartily his opinion. To her left, Bill was sleeping - even _snoring_ - and missing on all the action. Mr. Weasley was sitting in the front, musing enthusiastically at the Muggle marvels he was spotting along the ride, while Moody grunted hmhms and was taking each yellow light as a personal mission to not touch the brakes.

As soon as Harry set foot out of the car in front of the Burrow, he looked up at the Weasley's house and felt he was finally waking up from a nightmare. Ginny rushed in with Hedwig's cage and his Firebolt. A yawning Bill waved a dismissive hand at Harry and brought his trunk in, leaving him with Mr. Weasley on the front porch. Harry waved a relieved goodbye at Moody, who flashed them a scary smile as he manoeuvred the car down the road.

«That was a _nasty_ ride,» slipped Mr. Weasley through his teeth, trying not to move his lips. «I'm never letting him drive us again.» Harry chuckled and Mr. Weasley rested a light hand on his shoulder before entering the Burrow.

Harry took a few minutes before following Mr. Weasley in, savouring the acute feeling of waking up from a long sanitized dream in which everything looked or felt the same. It was a mystery to him why Mrs Weasley's wild flower beds smelled so much better than Aunt Petunia's posh garden settings. The Burrow was all sound, sight and smell: shouting and laughing coming through the open windows, multiple textures sculpting the unique shape of the house, the light casting a bright glow along the tree line and of course that glorious, appetizing smell that tickled Harry's nose.

After Harry pushed the door open, he looked at his empty hands. For a second, he wished he could have brought something more than his luggage and his growing appetite.

Mrs Weasley got to him first and hugged him so hard he gasped. She kissed him soundly on the cheeks, and then rubbed off with her thumbs the lipstick she smeared on him. That little gesture made Harry blink a few times, as he was embarrassed and moved by the way she always seem to care about him as he was her own child. Finally, Mrs Weasley spoke with a small tremor in her voice, a smile stretching her lips, her warm hands cupping his face: «Harry dear, I'm so glad to see you. You've grown quite a bit, as I see! You don't look as bad as usual. Did they feed you right this year? Why don't you sit down for a bite?»

An absurd amount of food had already been placed on the table. Fred and George clasped his hand in a very manly manner, their face mirroring their obvious glee. Ron came running down the stairs. He jumped the last three steps and shouted a booming «Oï Harry!».

Harry noted that his friend was getting annoyingly tall and strong. His red t-shirt clashed with his freckles and his arms were still showing the scars left by the terrible events that occurred in the Ministry of Magic last spring. «You'll see soon enough that our little Ronniekins seems to have completely recovered from his…how shall I say this delicately…_his brief encounter with a brain_,» said George (or was that Fred?), catching Harry's glimpse at Ron's scars.

Ron scowled as Fred (or was that George?) added, with a wicked smile, « Yeah, Ron, you should have kept it. You never know when you will need one.» Ron snapped back, two red patches on his cheeks, «You two would have been able to share it for a while.» His eyes met Harry's and they smiled at each other. Ron locked him in a solid embrace and Harry could read in his lanky features his sheer joy to see him again.

Over his shoulder, Harry noticed a blurry of brown curls: as soon as Ron let go of him, Hermione Granger jumped into his arms. Harry laughed and staggered a bit while Hermione was looking at him, her brown eyes a little misty. Her voice was shrill when she said: « I am so happy you're back. I missed you.»

Harry returned the embrace, a little surprise by his friends' display of affection. He layed his hands on Hermione's shoulders and held her at arm length so he could look at her properly. Hermione looked tired under her tan and her cheeks were hollowed, as she had been sick. But her usually serious face was smiling and Harry felt a strong wave of affection for her. «If I could choose a sister, I would definitely pick Hermione,» thought Harry, looking at the fine lines that crinkled her face when she smiled.

After all, he could tell her everything, _anything_, from dead serious to immensely embarrassing and she always seemed to take it seriously. She knew what to do about it or she went fiercelyfor answers. That never faltered to amaze him: with all her knowledge and resources, Hermione was like a human lifesaver, a brilliant lifesaver, holding his head above the water when sometimes he felt like sinking was the only option.

His eyes were distracted from his brotherly feelings for his friend by a svelte silhouette with a red braid that was sitting up the stairs, silently witnessing his joy to see his friends again with a delighted smile, her arms crossed on her chest. Harry almost jolted when he realized he had always thought of Ginny as Ron's sister or as a friend, but he never could imagine her as _his_ sister. This new perspective made him suddenly confused.

«Harry?» pressed Hermione, looking in his eyes and then throwing a short glace over her shoulder. Harry saw her brown eyes glitter again as her head turned back to him and Harry was compelled to hug her again. He saw Ron's ears turn red. Harry gave her a pat on the shoulder and managed to utter, « I missed you too, Hermione.»

A sea of red hair was looking at him, smiling with warmth. Slowly, he lifted his head and said softly, his eyes grazing the red braid, « I missed you all.»

Ron looked embarrassed with the emotional silence that followed and spurted with animation, his blue eyes twinkling, «Harry, we've got you a birthday present you'll never forget, something bloody brilliant, mate. You will not believe how hard Gin, Hermione and I worked on this.» Mrs. Weasley drew an imperious hand as she commanded, «Now, stop using that b-word already, Ron. Your surprise can wait. Harry, be a darling and eat something. You looked famished.» Harry promptly obeyed and took place at the table as Ron sat to his left. In front of him, Hermione let herself drop on the wooden bench and he noticed she looked a little gaunt. He looked at her face again and frowned: his concern grew as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

Fred – Harry was pretty sure of this - ushered to his left and poked him in the ribs with his elbow. « Harry ! Are those… _muscles_?» Fred mockingly gasped while feeling his biceps. « You wear them quite well. Have you seen that, sis'? » From the corner of his eyes, Harry tried to catch Ginny's expression but she had slipped under the table, retrieving something she had dropped down. Harry smirked as he caught the angry glance Hermione casted at Fred. He could not hold a chuckle when Fred shrugged and blew a kiss back.

Ginny reappeared from under the table, her face slightly pink, brandishing her knife as a silver trophy and waving it menacingly in front of Fred's face. Harry could see a warning into her eyes. Hermione chewed intently: sheswallowed with a last menacing glance to Fred and turned back to Harry. « So Harry, it's your birthday today. What would you like to do? » Harry served himself eggs and shrugged. «That I already did. I left Privet Drive, so this is turning to be the best day of the year. Everything will be great, » he smiled.

Ron gave him an excited look while he spurted, « You have no idea how brilliant it will be!» Down the table, Bill yawned again, brushing his eyes with his large hand and Ron lowered his voice, whispering to Harry, «Bill has a new girlfriend…_you know_.» He winked. «He looks tired as hell. What can wear a bloke like this? Non-stop snogging?» They sniggered while Hermione looked to the ceiling with a disgusted look on her face.

Lunch was noisy: laughs, exclamations and taunts were coming from everywhere at the same time. Ron was getting teased mercilessly by the twins, who were describing each spoonful he was bringing to his mouth in an over dramatic tone, « And now the huge black hole is opening to swallow that poor thing who only wanted to live…to live!» Hermione and Ginny were engrossed in some kind of whispering and giggling conversation. Mid-meal, Bill got up and winked at Mr. Weasley as he went through the back door.

Harry felt strangely alone even if people surrounded him. His eyes crossed periodically Mrs. Weasley's as she seemed to be watching him intently. He bowed his head to his plate. As he was happy a few minutes ago, he felt he could not blend now to any conversations around him.

Somehow, he felt someone was missing, someone with a husky laugh and a fondness for very bad puns, someone he briefly considered family, _his_ family.

When Ron finally took the cookie plate away from him while claiming to the table it was time for the surprise, Harry shook himself up and got up. That surprise was starting to intrigue him greatly. Ron bounced to the backdoor. «You'll need your Firebolt, » he said over his shoulder to Harry. He frowned and turned around torun upstairs toretrieve it, but he bumped instead into Ginny who shoved it in his hands. He thanked her as Hermione suspended herself to his arm and pulled him outside, under the sun.

He was surprised to see, sitting on a rickety wood bench, Remus Lupin with his legs and arms crossed. He had a doubtful expression on his face as he was listening intently to Nymphadora Tonks, who was laughing and eating some kind of candy that colored her teeth black. Mad-Eye Moody – what was _he_ doing there? – had a defeated look on his face. Bill Weasley looked like he was taunting him, laughing and pointing a finger at him. Harry blinked. Was that _Fleur Delacour_, almost too beautiful to look at?

Harry glanced quickly at Ron and his mouth wide opened confirmed his first impression. Harry watched Fleur rub gently Bill's back and he predicted to himself that meals at the Weasleys would become hugely entertaining if this couple got serious.

When that odd group saw them coming, they raised their heads and waved – except for Moody, who growled. Harry looked around him and he suddenly realized that everybody was holding a broom…including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

And then, as he looked closely at the backyard with a growing amazement, he understood.

_Oh my, will you survive the suspense?_


	3. A Quidditch Lesson

_Now I have to confess something…I am modifying a lot of things in the story from French to English because I felt the French version was too blunt. __This is almost like a vaudeville. _

_Patronuses – is that the correct plural form? - are not canon here, except for the ones we all know. I am toying with them of course: I know JKR said Ron's was a Jack Russell terrier, but I preferred another animal for this story._

_Poor Fleur has been laughed so much at with her bad English accent that I decided to get a tiny revenge here as a French speaker : ) _

_Please brace yourself as you are about to witness…_ **

* * *

****Chapter 3**

**A Quidditch lesson**

« This is unbelievable! » raved an impressed Harry.

In the Burrow's backyard, what used to be an immense area covered with waist high wild grass had been neatly shaved. Two pairs of three hoops were installed at each end. A small Quidditch pitch in Ron's backyard…Harry's mouth was wide open.

Hermione lightly pulled on his t-shirt, smiling at his astonished expression as she said, «You have _no_ idea how much paperwork I had to fill in order to get the rights to reproduce a authorized Quidditch pitch. We did it at a smaller scale, of course. Mr. Weasley had to push the case file to a contact so our request could be treated in priority.» Ron added, his lengthy silhouette leaning on his broom, «We thought that you may want to play Quidditch on your birthday. We've been working on this for ages. This is after all,» he raised his voice with growing excitation,« the Burrow's first official Quidditch tournament!»

Her pink hair in pigtails, Tonks walked up to Harry. He could see a little sadness in her eyes as she flashed him her blackish teeth, probably tinted by the liquorice wand she was sucking on. « Wotcher, Harry,» she said in a bouncy way, leaning towards him as she smacked him a sticky kiss on the cheek. Lupin rested a hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

Harry felt bittersweet about all this: it was so big, so outrageous… so _wrong_. The Order should not be having fun when darkness menaced to draw its wings over their head. But Harry remembered the smiling faces on the picture Moody showed him of the first Order of the Phoenix, how they all looked amused and determined at the same time. Harry decided that he would engrave this day in his memory, his own personal picture of the second Order.

«Anybody knows how we should divide the teams?» said Bill, who was looking like he was having the time of his life. He winked at Moody.

«Since I'm the bloody referee, thanks to you, I'll do _that_,» muttered Moody as Molly Weasley looked at him with a disapproval glance. He moved to the middle of the group, his magical eye roving all around, as if he was gauging the capacities of every player. He turned on his heels so suddenly he almost threw Fleur to the ground and he flickered his wand: on one of the three wood benches that had been prepared, a blue fabric appeared with an silvery emblem showing a stag, a mountain goat, a wolf and a mink. « Blue team will be Harry, the young lady Weasley, Lupin and Arthur.»

Harry smiled to himself: this was going to be too easy. They were going to _crush_ the competition. Ginny was such a fierce player. But then, Harry looked at Lupin with his already defeated shoulders and at Mr. Weasley, who was looking at his broom with a puzzled face. Did they even know how to play?

As he was reading his mind, Lupin grabbed Harry's arm and said in a stifled voice,« When Ginny got this idea, everybody scowled at her at first. We were still badly shaken after what happened…» Lupin winced as he took in a shallow breath. « But she's a little general, this girl. She looked at each of us in the eye and persuaded us that it would be good for the _team spirit_, as she said.» Harry glanced at Ginny who was laughing at something Bill had said. He muttered, his voice slightly shaking,«That was _her_ idea?»

Lupin spoke again, nodding his head as he watched her too. « She enlisted Hermione and Ron, who did not have their heart at it first, and then persuaded us. She even made us agree to a training camp!» Lupin chuckled and said, almost with remorse, « The last person who made me laugh like that was your...» He stopped and cleared his throat. Lupin continued with his voice a little strangled, «I laughed so much that day, though I've discovered that Molly has a strong arm. I still have the bruises to prove it. I don't know if it is because of all that work she does with a frying pan, but by the mighty Godric, this woman can hit a Bludger.»

Harry was not listening anymore: he walked up to Ginny who was giddily mocking Ron, who looked disappointed he was not part of Harry's team. Caught in the act, she looked at Harry, an embarrassed smile on her lips. Harry hated himself for that, but his voice quivered a bit as he said to her, «That was your idea, so I hear. »

She hesitantly shrugged and then flashed him a smile that almost blinded him, as she touched lightly his arm. Harry added, really slowly, trying to smile, but feeling that his face would crack up if he did, « Thanks Ginny. It's a great, great idea. But you will have to tell me,» he murmured as Ginny was getting closer to him, «how you _managed_ to bring Moodyinto this.»

Ginny looked at him intently and Harry could see an expression in her face that made him understood what Lupin meant by her being a little general. Then she chuckled and answered, « Let's just say I got Bill's help for this.» Harry wanted to hear more but Ginny quickly added, « I just wanted to be sure these would be the cleanest games in Quidditch history. He's the scariest referee I could afford.»

Meanwhile, Moody had conjured a yellow fabric embroidered with gold that represented an otter, an antelope, a horse and what looked like a huge bird. «Miss Granger, Tonks, _Bill_ and the first one, you're on the yellow team», he barked, slightly accentuating Bill's name. A third fabric appeared, this one white with a blue stitching, and showed a swan, a fox, a bee and a bear.

Moody concluded, looking at the ground, «Last team, _Madimouazel_ Delacour, the other one, Molly and Ron.»

« And _how_ exactly are we going to distinguish Fred from George when they'll be playing against each other?» Ron pleaded, bringing up a fair question. Fred looked delighted as he spoke, «You'll have to take your chance, mate.»

Harry could not help but smile when Moody reluctantly blew three times in his silver whistle. The teams regrouped and silently listened to him as he stiffly gave instructions, «They're will be a Beater, a Keeper and two Chasers. NO, » he barked again as some of the players expressed their deception, « we were not able to get an official Golden Snitch. Marvin's been bloody sport to put his a -» but he stopped as Mrs Weasley snapped his name.

Moodysnorted and added quickly, « Most goals win. You'll have ten minutes for each game. Now, take a few minutes to organize your strategy and don't forget i'll -» Tonks interrupted him, a smile pursing her lips, «_Constant vigilance_ are the words, my friends. No, Mr. Referee, » she sweetly added, while he was angrily blowing the whistle at her, «the game is not started, you can't call a penalty yet.»

The teams separated and started exchanging taunts. Harry was not surprised that Mr Weasley, who decided he had a shot as a Keeper, assigned Ginny and him as Pursuers. Lupin felt the weight of the bat in his hand, an unsure look on his face. Arthur drew Ginny and Lupin to him and bowed his head, a very serious look on his face, « Strategy must be kept simple. Bill will be the Keeper, I'm sure of it. He's big and strong, but not really fast. Fred is a wicked Beater, so the two of you will have to play him with your speed,» he said, pointing Harry and Ginny. « Now, Remus, aim for Tonks. She's the best flier on that team. Hermione is still starting but she is not bad with the Quaffle, as we saw on training day.»

Harry swallowed hard: Hermione, playing Quidditch? Ginny winked at him and said, « I had to tie her to the broom at first, but she is not falling from it anymore.»

Harry got on his broom and gave a slight push on the ground. As he was flying into the air, he pushed the broom the fastest he could. The sun was warm but the air was swapping his face in the loveliest way. He started to ride in tight circles, marking the familiar movements again in his body and then flew shortly upside down, just for the thrill of it, as Mrs Weasley screamed, « Watch out, Harry! »

This was going to be fabulous.

Moody blew the whistle again as Ginny faced Tonks. His magical eye went to them alternatively and he severely said, « No cheap shots, ladies. Get ready, here it goes!»

The Quaffle went into the air and Tonks grabbed it. Ginny and Harry rushed on her tail and Tonks threw it rather feebly at Mr Weasley who did a swift – if not lucky - move with his broom to block it. Harry took the return, dodging the Bludger that was coming his way. He was looking for Ginny to his leftbut could not see her. Hermione was coming to him and had her arm stretched out to get a chance to grab the Quaffle. Harry felt Ginny was closing up to him. He suddenly threw the Quaffle up, and he saw Ginny grab it as she bolted to Bill who had no chance of blocking that throw.

«That's a goal! Go Ginny! The young lady's going to _destroy_ you, Bill!» hollered Moody, looking almost cheerful now. Bill screamed back, laughing, «What happened to impartiality?»

Even if Hermione _managed_ to score two times (poor Arthur) and Tonks flew so fast she seemed blurry, Harry and Ginny dominated the game without surprise. Harry was amazed: he was pushing it, putting himself into positions on the pitch she could not possibly reach but the Quaffle seemed to fall in his hands with regularity. When Moody whistled the end of the game, all the players touched down, as Bill could not stop making jokes about his poor abilities. Ron approached Ginny, who was trying to catch her breath, « You're trying for the team again this year, aren't you? You have to! » Ginny retorted, her eyes twinkling, «It's so easy when you play with a _good_ partner.» Ron nodded and his face froze, as he understood, «Hey, what does _that_ mean?»

Harry wiped his forehead and grinned at Hermione who was coming towards him, «Woah, Hermione, two goals? Ready to try out for the team, are you?» Hermione looked at him sternly. She said, pulling back her hair, « Don't be an idiot. I am really bad, I know it. I have to say Ginny is a great teacher, though. And I did not want to miss this for all in the world.»

Something in her determined face made Harry curious; even if she looked a little tired, her brown eyes were glowing and she had a wry smile on her face as she winked at him, speaking so softly Harry had to close up to her so he could hear her say, «Viktor is not a bad teacher either. But please don't tell Ron.»

Harry did not try to hide his stupefaction as Hermione laughed in an un-Hermione-ish way. Her eyes were shifty and Harry tried to read them: did she see Krum this summer? He rubbed nervously the back of his neck as he noticed again how gaunt Hermione looked. He looked at her in silence as she waved to Ron and cried to him, «So, Ron, ready to get demolished?»

Harry swallowed: man, was she taking this tournament seriously.

Ron looked like he was hit in the face. He retorted back, his eyes squinting, «To get _what_? Hermione, I don't want to blow your little Quidditch bubble here, but after all, I'm Gryffindor's Keeper.»

Hermione took another step closer to him and rested her hands on her hips. Harry could not see her face, but he saw Ron loosing it completely as she lightly stroked his cheek and said something to him that Harry could not hear. Ron watched her with horror, his face becoming scarlet as she pranced back to her team.

Ron walked to Harry and bumbled, « What's _her_ problem?» Harry tried to learn more, as Ron was turning red again. Harry asked him, «What did she tell you?»

Ron moved quickly his head, his red hair falling around his face and said with an incredulous look on his face, «She told me that she would teach me… a Quidditch _lesson_, Harry. Blimey, she's been on a broom for two weeks and she wants to teach me _lessons_.» Harry shrugged, wiping his forehead again, «Well, it is not like if you don't know her. She's always been competitive.»

Ron kicked a pebble and spoke in a conspirational tone. « I don't know what bit her today. She's…she's…» Ron fumbled as he was looking for the right word, « She's _provoking_ me.»

Harry took a second and tried not to laugh as he repeated after him,« She's _provoking_ you.» Ron nodded, his eyes carefully watching Hermione. « She's looking at me as she was laughing at me or something…I don't know.»

Harry felt like teasing him a bit so he flatly said, «I have no idea what you're talking about.» Ron looked at him as if he was seizing him up. He grabbed his arm and his voice derailed as he said, «She's looking at me with those eyes…I don't recognize her. LOOK,» Ron cried out loud, « she's provoking me right now!»

Harry turned to Hermione and saw her laughing at a retort Tonks just snapped. Hermione was looking at Ron with a fierce look in her eyes and she was smiling openly, her face still red with the effort she just gave. Harry's heart thumped as he realized that the provoking thing Ron had seen in Hermione's eyes looked like downright flirtation to him. This situation had disaster written all over it. «Urgh,» thought Harry.

Moody's whistle brought them back to the game that was about to start. Ron angrily took off on his broom and positioned himself in front of the hoops. Harry sat down on his team's bench as Mr. Weasley was making his predictions for the game, his face still sweaty after the effort. « These teams look well balanced to me. I wonder if Hermione is going to score against Ron. I'm an old geezer, but Ron's a good Keeper…And the twins against each other…I just wish nobody will get hurt. Go kids! Go Molly! » Mr Weasley screamed as he clapped his hands. Harry and Ginny exchanged an amused look as Lupin hid his smile behind his hand. Mr Weasley felt the urge to justify himself, « Well, I can't favour my kids over the missus, what do you think?»

There were indeed a lot of Weasleys flying around and Molly, in an impressive move, hit the Bludger with intensity, while Harry loudly cheered. When Hermione arrived in front of Ron with the Quaffle, shethrew it strongly at one of the hoops. Harry thought it was an easy block for Ron, but he was surprised to see he missed it, and Hermione scored.

Harry heard Ron screaming at Hermione something like, «What's that face about? What have I done?» As Mrs Weasley was rooting for her, Ron suddenly turned crimson. He shouted, «Mum, please! She's not even in our team!» Molly Weasley fluttered up to him and Harry winced when he heard her say, «Darling, she is your _friend_. You should be cheering for her. She's doing quite well.»

Ron became sloppy. Nothing got passed him when Tonks was shooting, but Hermione scored once again, and again… Molly Weasley inadvertently added to the humiliation by saying, «Ron, darling, would you like to try the bat instead?» Ron gave her a murderous look as he grabbed the bat. He hit the Bludger with a heavy hand.

«Hermione!» hollered Ginny. She sprang up and started running on the pit. Harry startled and saw the impact. The Bludger hit Hermione right in the face.

Harry felt a tinge in his stomach as Hermione fell off her broom. Moody flicked his wand at her and muttered an incantation that made her fall slower. Ginny grabbed her and their heads collided as she helped her to the ground. Hermione was crying in pain with her hands to her faceand Mr Weasley, who had run to her with Ginny, moved delicately her fingers so he could see her face. «Oh, dear.» Blood was flowing from a deep graze on her cheek.

All the players were now in circle around them. Mr Weasley urgently called Bill, « Your blood charm is better than mine. Come here, son.» Bill kneeled over Hermione and held her head in a gentle way as he muttered, his wand waving a small but precise circle, «_Sanguis minima_.» The flowing stopped but the graze looked nasty,

Harry heard behind his back Mrs Weasley speaking softly, «Isn't she bleeding a lot?» Lupin answered back, concern troubling his voice, «Her condition is certainly not helping.»

Harry turned to him and hastily asked, «What condition?» But nobody answered him back, as Bill helped Hermione to her feet and Fred ran back from the house with a handkerchief. Mrs Weasley applied it with precaution on her cheek as she said, « We'll take care of this, sweetheart. Let us take you back in. I have all the right plants for this. Bill, Arthur, can you bring her back home?» They lifted her and returned to the house, walking slowly.

Ginny got up and faced Harry with a worried look. He saw she had drips of blood on her face: for a second, he thought she was hurt too but he understood she had been splattered when she broke Hermione's fall.

He asked her, « Is Hermione sick? I just heard your mum talk about a condition…» As she was not answering, he did as Mrs Weasley had done when he arrived at the Burrow earlier today: without thinking or speaking, he cupped Ginny's face and started to rub off the blood with his thumbs, but then he realized

_What am I thinking?_

that her cheeks were really soft and warm and

_What am I doing?_

he let his hands down, rubbing them against his trousers, as he had been burned.

Ginny 's eyes were undecipherable. Around them, the others were softly speaking and a very pale Ron was looking at the house. Ginny suddenly jumped towards him and screamed, «You did that on purpose!» Ginny was so angry Ron recoiled from her.«You did that on purpose! You don't understand a thing! I hate you!» Ginny gave him a furious look and ran to the house. Harry walked to Ron, who had not even tried to defend himself. His shoulders were hunched. Harry bit his bottom lip as he watched his friend crumble in misery. Ron muttered, his eyes a little misty, « I did not do it on purpose, Harry. I _swear_. I never wanted to hurt her.»

Harry sighed, his hands still tingling. Of all the days they could have had that conversation, it had to be today. Harry braced himself before he gave his friend the_ Talk._

Without looking at his friend, he spoke softly, « I know, Ron. I know you want only the best for her. But please _tell_ her, before you kill her. » Ron croaked, looking as he was waking up from a dream, «What?» Harry touched his elbow and brought him closer, so Fred and George could not hear, « Ron, er…Have you ever considered…_telling_ her?»

Ron looked at him as he had been offered a vomit-flavoured Bertie Blott's bean. «Tell her what exactly, Harry? What do you want me to say? I'm stupid Ron Weasley. Quidditch impaired idiot Ron Weasley.» Harry had no patience for this, as he quipped, «That is just not true, Ron. Just _tell_ her.»

Harry was shocked to see his friend's body quivering all over as he clenched his fists. Harry thought Ron was going to cry or maybe jump at his throat but he whispered with anger, « Tell her? You mean tell her I l-» Ron hesitated as he blinked, « I like her? You want me to tell her I _like_ her? After I almost decapitated her? » Harry paused to answer diplomatically at this: he was looking for the right word so Ron would not bite his head off.

Like? Fancy? Love? Adore? Worship?

A word crossed Harry's mind and he dared, whispering back, « Ron, you…_care_ for her. You should tell her.» Harry tried to grab his arm to comfort him, but Ron freed himself. « Easy for you to say,» Ron sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. «You've got legions of girls lying at your feet. Bloody hell, my own sister…»

Ron could not finish his pesky remark: Ginny was running back from the house at that precise moment and slapped him in an imperial manner. While Moody grabbed her by the arm and Lupin rolled his eyes to the sky as he said, «Enough now, young miss -», Ron turned to Harry, his face still stamped with the mark of Ginny's hand, looking as he was going to say something, but he turned around instead and start running back to the house. Harry sat down on the neatly shaved grass, his head down as Ginny's swearing voice faded, the twins dragging her away.

Tonks let herself down to his side and gently rubbed his knee. Harry lifted his head and he saw that her smiling eyes contradicted her serious expression as she sighed,« Ah, the glory of youth…This is turning to be a _hell_ of a birthday, Harry.»


	4. The incredible powers that are given by

_Beware: Mrs Weasley non-authorized activities. Consequences of peer pressure ahead…_

_I never saw Ginny as a bouncy kind of girl. I think there are grit, determination and frustration behind those two fiery eyes. Next chapter will be less fluffy - I promise._

_Feel free to comment._

* * *

**Chapter 4 **

**The incredible powers that are given by Ogden's Old Firewhiskey**

Harry wished the day would be over already.

Long after dinner that night, the adults were conversing in a false nonchalant manner around the table and it seemed to Harry they were going to great lengths to ignore the youngsters that were skulking in the living room. Mrs Weasley, with an almost pleading look on her face, was going from Ron to Hermione with a forced smile («Darling, would you like some tea? Some pumpkin juice? _Something_?») . Harry snorted when he understood that his two friends were trying to be as far from each other as they physically could and were so consumed by the effort of not looking at each other they could not even talk to him.

Harry also noted that Ginny looked pretty much absorbed by her «_ Young Witch Today »_ magazine. She had tried to revive the tournament when it was clear that Hermione would be all right, but Harry felt that the sun had turned cold when she stormed back to the house, as the others did not seem ready to go for it anymore. He was sorry that her efforts deemed to nothing and if only she had looked at him, for a tiny second, he would have smiled with his most sympathetic face. But after a long time, she got up, with this stubborn look he had already seen on her and she climbed the stairs to her room without saying goodnight.

Only Fred and George were giving a little attention to him: he gave them a hint of a grin, listening to their chat about their new products, punctuated with their usual caustic retorts. Harry would have liked to talk to Lupin, but something in his eyes made him renounce to make contact.

Earlier that night, Harry had blown tthe candles on his cake with a fake smile, forcefully wishing the return to family peace.

As Harry could not bear reading again the same page of « _The Daily Prophet_ », he unenthusiastically considered going up to bed. Fred sat beside him and slipped, « Why don't you come out with us for a while? It is a nice night out and we were thinking to light a bonfire.»

That felt good enough for Harry: he did not want to get stuck in the same room with contorted-faced Ron and murderous-looking Hermione anymore. He got up slowly and followed the twins out. «Don't come back too late!» cried Mrs Weasley from the other side of the house. «No, Mum,» Fred and George answered in perfect unison.

**

* * *

****_Upstairs, a red-haired teen witch is furiously writing._**

_I am going to kill them. They get so engrossed by each other they forget that other people revolve around them. My brother is the worst: getting paranoid with all that competition crap she's putting on. She's the worst flirt, what was she trying to prove? She does not look like herself anymore. She should have known that this would lead Ron into throwing a fit._

_She scares me: all that blood…It is just not normal PLUS she is talking in her sleep and she cries for help. She looked so tired on her broom today._

_I asked Ron if he could sleep in our room two nights ago. He looked like I was asking for the moon, but he slept in the bed with me, as we use to do when we were kids and we were afraid of the big bad goblin that could come out from under my bed. When she started to scream, he understood why I'm so freaked out to sleep in the same room as her._

_The Healers at St. Mungo's said she was going to be okay, Madam P. said she's going to be okay, Mum is saying she's getting better, so why is she's looking so thin then? Why's Professor Lupin reading all those books about superior hexes? Why's Mum writing to Professor Snape, three times a week?_

_I've seen her back when we swam in the pond yesterday. I could see her ribs under her skin. Ron noticed it too and he looked worried. Why did he try to decapitate her just now? Was it a fancy way to tell her he's worried?_

_She said she still has a small mark on her stomach but she did not want to show it to me. Mum said she's experiencing the residual from the hex that the Death Eater conjured her._

_And now Hermione made me swear not to tell Harry. He's going to be so angry when he finds out. She said she doesn't want to worry him. I told her that it was too late, Harry has worry tattooed on his face now, fire burning in his eyes and clenched jaws. He smiles and he looks like he's going to cry. It breaks my heart._

_He is worried for us as he did not have enough of worrying for his own life._

_I am furious. I have worked my ass off so that damn game could happen. I saw so many times Harry fly when he's angry. He's like a storm and I yearn each time to be near him so I can feel this incredible energy that oozes from him._

_I don't know if he knows how much energy passes from him to me, but I know he feels good after a flight, when he's worked so hard his legs are shaking. We're the same on this: Quidditch is just the best way to evaporate anger. I've been flying a lot lately. A lot. I did all this because I had the feeling he would be angry. _

_When he opened the door this morning, he looked stronger. Determined. I saw something in his eyes, though: his lips were twitching. He was weary at what I was going to say. I wanted to scream, «I'm here, don't you see? I've worked so hard to convince Mum I was not in danger if I came along. When will you understand what you mean to me?»_

_I think he's not used to people liking him for him. They all see the scar first and get so reverent around him. I saw it too and I'm ashamed now I was at first paralysed by it. _

_I feel more like kicking his sorry ass now. He's so used to be alone he does not realize how powerful he could be with others around. And when I say that, I mean not just letting them revolve around him but letting them come in, for real._

_Luna once reflected that even when Harry is playing Quidditch, he's a loner because there is only one Seeker in a team and he's looking by himself for the Golden Snitch. She's so right: he looked amazed today that I could reach him everywhere on the pitch, like he was surprised somebody could see him._

_We're a team, bloody Harry Potter, even if you won't acknowledge it. I've been studying you closely, and I have to admit I put much more effort in this than in all the other subjects in school. I know how you move, I know how you think, I can predict the expression on your face and what you'll say. I know what means the smallest crinkle in your face and the faintest twinkle in your eye. _

_I'm trying to think one step ahead of you so I may see when you will try to work up your usual routine of throwing us out of the way. And don't pull that sympathy crap on me, I'll get furious. You don't want me getting furious._

_This morning, I had to insist a little so I could follow him to his room. I worked my way up the stairs, and he seemed so full of himself – he had a smug face, exactly like his father had on that picture Mad-Eye Moody lent me. But then I recognized that expression again. He was ashamed to show me how he lived. _

_Harry Potter was ashamed to face me. Me. I got so sad I had to turn my back on him. I wanted to tell him I used to know what it is to be alone even they are loads of people around. I decided after my first year at Hogwarts I never wanted to be alone again. _

_The picture obsesses me. When I asked Mr Moody if I could get a copy, he looked stunned. He did not understand why I wanted a picture of people I don't even know. He flatly refused at first because he said he did not want me to loose it, but I said that I wanted to study it. His eye went right through my soul and he lent me the picture for a week. I watched it so many times. I just have to close my eyes to see it come alive._

_This picture scares me. When Dad takes my picture, I can't help but think that someone will look at it one day and will wonder about what I was thinking at that particular moment. What would have those people – Harry's parents, Sirius, Neville's parents - have done if they knew what was going to happen to them? I think about that all the time before I go to sleep. We are ineluctably coming towards the end of that war that Dad said has started. _

_Everything has an end, and everything will begin again._

_I don't want to wait for him to come around. I've seen his face in his room. I've seen his face when he wiped my cheeks. The picture is the proof that waiting is not an option anymore. I need to know. Now._

_I'm taking this in my own hands. My bloody brothers better not say a word about this._

* * *

A small bonfire was set near the tree line. They silently walked towards it, Fred carrying old quilts so they would not get cold and George leading them while holding a wicker basket full of fireworks. 

Harry sat on a log while Fred and George lit the fire. Soon after, Harry heard the familiar pop and snap and he absorbed himself into the orange, red and yellow flames that were licking the dry wood and rising to the sky. He shivered. Fred lent him a quilt as he sniffed, «You'll need this, mate. You'll be warmer.»

Harry took the worn quilt and felt something solid between the folds. He fumbled a bit with the fabric and firmly grabbed the object in it as he got closer to the fire. He was holding a small flask that seemed to be full with an amber liquid. He could read on the label «_Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, since 1560_ ».

Fred looked at him with glee, « Happy Birthday, old chap. Ron and Hermione are the worst for giving you a happy one, but we thought you had the maturity to appreciate our gift. » Harry was undecidedly holding the flask and answered back, a little surprise, « Thanks, Fred, but I'm not sure…»

Fred silenced him with a hand gesture, « Aw, come on. There is not enough to get us drunk, we'll just get a taste of it. The only thing is, for very evident reasons, Mum cannot see this.» Fred moved a bit on his log and Harry could see his eyes glistening as he said, «Anyway, we can share. No need to get yourself hammered. Come on, open it!»

Harry slowly nodded, weighing the flask in his hand. He cracked the seal open and carefully sniffed the content: it had a strong and caramelized aroma that made his eyes water. A little undecided, Harry could not help but ask , «Are you sure you're not trying to make me drink your _Hairy Ears_ potion?»

George flashed him a mocking outraged look as he claimed, « Harry, who do you think we _are_? True stuff. Guaranteed. Wait, we'll do this the right way.» From a flick of his wand, he conjured three glasses that floated to Harry.

Harry gingerly poured a few drops of the Firewhiskey in each glass and two of them lazily floated back to the twins. He took his glass, smelled again the whiskey and George drew his glass to him, with an awful French accent, «_San-tay_!»

Harry took a sip and tears immediately went up to his eyes. It was so hot, terribly hot and his throat was in fire: he could feel the burn going down to his stomach. His fingers tingled: a shiver went down his spine.

Harry decided he liked the feeling. He felt a little rebellious now, a little defiant as if the Firewhiskey has giving him the power to eventually snap very good retorts at his two friends… his lame friends that did not care at all about him today.

_Indulging in a bit of self-pity, Potter?_

_You bet._

He did not need them tonight. Nope.

The twins were closely watching him, liking their lips, waiting for a verdict. Harry smiled as he brushed the back of his hand on his suddenly sweaty forehead, « Brilliant. Another sip, gents?»

«But what do you think you're _doing_?»

A stern voice made Harry jolt. As he was turning around with a sincere ashamed look on his face, Harry saw Hermione and Ginny, standing side to side, the latter grabbing the arm of the former. Hermione looked appalled when she saw him with the small glass in his hand. Her eyes became fiery and her cheeks coloured, the purple graze on her cheek almost fading in contrast. She looked at him with an astounded face, « Harry! Are you…_drinking_? You're… DRINK…»

Fred jumped to his feet and firmly put his hand on her mouth while pulling her to him. Hermione's eyes were wide open and Harry could not tell if she was angry or stunned. Fred said in a low voice, « Well, at least don't get us caught if you don't approve. It's his birthday: why don't you let him have a little fun for once? It looks like Ron and you, Miss Smarty-Pants, have failed on this today. Stop ruining his life and let him celebrate as he wishes.»

Hermione freed herself from Fred and Ginny and let herself drop on the log to Harry's side. He could feel the coldness of her hand when she grabbed his and she blinked a few times when she drew her face closer.

She spoke softly and Harry could see her trembling chin, « I'm so sorry for all this. It's a mess. You're so right to be angry with me and Ron.»

Harry saw tears in her eyes. He looked away: he had seen enough crying today and he was trying not to let his new resolutions fail. He took a piece of wood off the ground and stirred up the fire. In a complete silence, Ginny sat on the other side of the bonfire, Fred throwing a quilt on her shivering shoulders. Over the bonfire, Harry's eyes met Ginny's: they were glistening and Harry felt that Firewhiskey has accorded to him a new power. He could look in those eyes for a long, long time without flinching. Ginny was the first one to downcast her eyes, as she looked a little troubled.

_Ha!_

Harry felt triumph overcome him and he could feel his face contorting itself into a tough, defiant expression.

_Who's the one in shame now?_

After a lot of debating from Ginny,s part, George summoned two more glasses. Taking the Firewhiskey flask from Harry's hands, he poured five shots and the glasses floated back to them. « So, why don't we toast Granger for her master-work, that is, driving our little Ronniekins to unleash the beast we always knew he had within?» said George, gulping his Firewhiskey, his face turning red. Ginny retorted quickly, «That's not fair, George. Ron is the idiot here, please remember.»

From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Hermione holding back her tears as she was looking at the roaming fire. Harry felt bad for her: he was not really angry - annoyed at her, but not angry.

The Firewhiskey's power was fading. Maybe another shot would help.

But she looked so sad Harry could not help himself: he rubbed her shoulder and drew her to him. Harry said softly, his mouth against her tangled hair, « Don't worry. I'm just happy you were not hurt badly.» Hermione did not utter a word: she rested her head on Harry's shoulder.

« I'd like to toast my little sister Ginny, who has showed tremendous courage today. Oh yeah, she's definitely a true Gryffindor, » Fred added with a smirk. Ginny, who was turning her glass between her fingers, gave him a quick glimpse, «And what does that mean?»

Fred took his time and said, as he was revealing a long kept secret, « Well, slapping a man who's already on his knees takes courage, don't you think?» Harry looked at Ginny as she was turning red and he saw she looked mortified. He could not help thinking that Ginny looked like a bonfire herself, with all that red, orange and yellow in her hair.

She raised her glass, a determined look on her face,« Well, I'm toasting my git of a brother Ron, who showed us today that the expression "dying from embarrassment" is an understatement.» In a dramatic gesture, she drank it straight up and started coughing, wincing and pulling her tongue out as she whispered, «Blimey, this is…_strong_.»

Harry took his glass, a hand still on Hermione's shoulder. He raised it and for a reason, he could not look anybody in eye but Ginny as he said quietly, «To my friends.» He had in his glass this time much more than a few drops of whiskey but he gulped it at once.

_Don't cough._

_You eluded a dragon. You can do this._

Ginny's eyes had the same undecipherable look he had seen on her earlier but he could read that smile.

_She's happy. I made her happy._

Hermione suddenly sat up and with a determined hand, she drew the floating glass to her nose as she sniffed the content. Fred almost convulsed in shock as George bantered with a taunting voice,« Is Miss Granger ready to experience alcohol? What effect will have Firewhiskey on her perfect brain? Will she find the strength to-» but Hermione interrupted him. «Happy Birthday, Harry.» Harry watched her down the content of her glass. Her cheeks were pink as she smirked at him: she sent back her glass to George who looked at her with a newfound admiration, and she said with a choked voice, «Not bad. Maybe I could get a refill.»

Hermione's words seemed to lift a heaviness that was lingering over the group. They started to laugh and to taunt each other. Harry felt euphoric and Hermione's unusually loud laughs to his side were comfort to him. She passed the quilt over their shoulders and soon Harry was really warm: the bonfire was warming his face, the Firewhiskey warmed his stomach, Hermione's body to his side was warming his arm and leg and those blazing eyes looking at him were warming everything else.

George sent back the glasses and they toasted again. Fred lighted the fireworks and they exclaimed themselves very loudly as the sky was colouring itself in outrageous colours.

Harry predicted that Firewhiskey could also have the power to make his legs feel like they were under a Tarantallegra spell if he got up. Hermione had snuggled up to him and she looked calmer and relaxed. Fred was holding his sister against him in a surprisingly affectionate manner and Ginny was faking her best fight against him. When he started to tickle her, she escaped from him and ran into the darkness, her laugh tinkling in the cool summer air. George and Fred went after her, their legs a little wobbly.

Suddenly, Hermione whispered to Harry, « Do you think Ron likes me?» Harry bowed his head to her and in a rather bold move certainly induced by all the new powers he was getting from Ogden's, he asked her back, « Does Ginny still like me, you think?»

Harry could smell her chocolate and Firewhiskey breath as she drew her face closer, « You're joking, right? She adores you. Always has. Oh!», she said, covering her mouth in a very slow movement, « She'd kill me if she knew I told you this.»

_Yeah, I always knew she liked me but I don't know why I really need to be sure of this now._

Harry insisted, trying to take advantage of Hermione's looser self, «But she went out with Michael…Isn't she going out with Dean now?» Hermione snorted, resting her chin on his shoulder,« She's taking all this dating quite lightly, if you catch my drift.» Harry felt calmer than the Dead Sea as he blurted, « Two Weasley will now have a good reason to kill us. Ron may be a git but he's a Hermione-fancying sort of git.»

Hermione's face was set ablaze: she threw her arms around Harry's neck and they fell back in a mess of quilts. As they were laughing and trying to liberate themselves from the fabric, a morose voice stunned them, «Need help?»

Harry and Hermione stopped their struggling and tried to get a glimpse at the tall silhouette towering them. Ron was standing, his hands deeply shoved into his pockets, his steely eyes fixed upon them. Hermione managed to get out of the quilt and stood up. She staggered a bit and Ron's brooding face turned incredulous.

«Hermione, you look… drunk,» slowly stated Ron, trying to register what was going on. Hermione slicked her jeans with her palms and tugged a little too strongly on her sweater. She took a few uncertain steps forward and shrugged, «Maybe. Do you have a problem with…that?» Ron pursed his lips and sternly said, « If I have a problem with that? Well, if my two best friends are drinking Firewhiskey and they are not sharing, I think I _may_ have a problem with that.»

Hermione punctuated her words tapping gently a finger on Ron's chest, « Ooooh…You mean we're still best friends.» Ron had the decency not to laugh at Hermione's dishevelled appearance and quietly said, his ears turning red, «I really did not want to hurt you. I'm sorry the Bludger hit you. I was afraid that…» Hermione nodded with energy and Ron had to hold her arm to steady her when she tried to whisper but cried instead,« I…forgive you…everything, Ron. Everything you have done to me and everything you'll ever -»she hiccupped and continued,« -do to me. I pardon you, my friend.»

Harry saw a grin on Ron's face: the red-haired teen was doing his best to look insulted at Hermione's insinuation that he would mess up again, but it was a lost cause. Ron tried not to laugh at Hermione's serious but convinced face and Harry felt that it was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. He laughed silently, biting his lips, lying flat on his back in the grass.

Ginny, Fred and George arrived, panting, just in time to hear Hermione say, « Now, Ron, bring me to bed.»

Harry laughed in his hands while Ron turned Howler red. Hermione poked him with her elbow as she was holding her face in her hands, looking really embarrassed even if she was drunk as Ogden's must have been when he developed his famous liquor. She said, coughing, «I mean, help me to my bedroom. If your mother sees me like this, she'll kill me. Oh,» she said, with the incoherence proper to the drunken state of mind, « Thanks, thanks, dear friend, my friend.»

Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck, and he let her do so, his arms dangling at his sides and incomprehension softening his features. Harry could see Fred and George wiggling their brows in a suggestive manner, leading Ron to demonstrate them a rude gesture behind Hermione's back as he finally draw an arm around her to lead her back home.

Fred and George extinguished the fire with a flick of their wand and they staggered behind them. Harry was holding his stomach that was really hurting from all the laughter he was trying to muffle and he rolled again in the perfumed grass. Soon after, Ginny fell besides him, in a cascade of giggles.

Harry turned his head to her: Ginny was trying to catch her breath as she was trying to not laugh out loud. He saw her crinkled nose and her eyes shut.

_You like me._

She turned to him, still giggling softly. In the darkness of the night, Ginny spoke with a small tremor of laugh in her voice, « It should be so simple for them.» Harry was still laughing as he asked, «What? What should be so simple for them?»

Ginny smiled again, the moonlight catching her eyes, «Two twits clearly taken by each other. It should be really simple.» Harry shrugged with a smile and he turned back his eyes to the sky. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder for being quite a poet when he said loudly it looked like a precious velvet fabric displaying the stars.

Then, he heard Ginny's voice, so low he was not sure he was hearing right, «It's much tougher if there is only one twit.»

Harry turned his head again only to see Ginny's now determined eyes facing him. His own smile faded: he nervously gulped and he wanted to retort something, something very intelligent and unbelievably smart with all the incredible powers that were given to him by Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, but she moved closer to him in a swift move and her lips brushed his before he could utter a word. 

Ginny jumped to her feet and her caressing voice was muffled by the wind that was blowing harder now. Lying on his back, feeling that all of the Firewhiskey's almighty powers had vanished, Harry heard her say, « I may only wish that you had a happy birthday after all, Harry Potter.»

* * *

_To be continued_


	5. Headaches and Nightmares

_Omerta means «gag order», so you know ; )_

_Thanks for reading!_

**

* * *

****Chapter 5**

**Headaches and nightmares **

Their noisy entrance was rewarded by a well-deserved frown from Mrs Weasley, but when she saw Hermione's wobbly walking, Harry's glazed eyes – even if Firewhiskey did not have anything to do with it –, she looked troubled.

When Mrs Weasley intently sniffed the twins' breath, she understood and she screamed in horror, «UP TO BED. RIGHT NOW. YOU SICKEN ME! I'LL DEAL WITH ALL OF YOU TOMORROW! THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!»

They all went upstairs in a cattle-like frenzy and in his drunken haze, Harry saw Ron lead a loudly shushing Hermione to her bedroom. Harry pushed the door to Ron's room and soon, his clothes were flying around the place as he crashed on the mattress.

Harry fell into a heavy, dreamless slumber. He woke up to a thundering headache. The strong, blistering sun that was warming his face did not help to ease the pain. His mouth was scorched and he felt like he was burning alive, even if his bed sheets were rolled and twisted around his waist. His stomach grumbled loudly and Harry appreciated the true meaning of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey's catch phrase: «_Enjoy the present_ »

_Because tomorrow you'll feel like you're dying._

Ron was sitting on his bed, holding a glass of water in his left hand, and two small white pills in the other. Angry shouting, coming from downstairs, could be heard through the boys' door. Harry blinked as he recognized Mrs Weasley's furious voice.

Ron said, shoving the glass in his hand,« Here.Muggle remedy, but Bill said you would need it.» Harry put his glasses on and wearily took the pills and the glass of water. Ron looked at him with a wry smile as Harry was swallowing the tablets. Ron quietly said,« Mum's going to kill you guys. She's been screaming for at least twenty minutes. Fred and George are going deaf, down there.»

Harry raised a hand to his forehead as he was thinking about what happened last night: the strong caramelized taste of the liquor –something moved in his stomach and he hastily swallowed – the fire's warmth, the mellow grass, and moonlight touching Ginny's face.

_Ginny._

Harry raised his hand to touch his lips as he drew himself up on the pillows, weakly asking, « So, how are Hermione and...er.. your sister this morning?»

Ron bit his lower lip. Harry thought Ron looked somewhat unamused as he chuckled, « Hermione has the mother of all headaches but Ginny looks annoyingly cheerful. She probably did not drink as much as you guys did. The twins look okay, though. Mum is furious because she thinks it means they have _indulged_ before.» Harry scratched his head and rubbed his eyes: Ginny drank as much as they all did.

Harry winced as the most stupid thought flew through his mind.

_Maybe there is something true in the old saying about purebloods holding their liquor better._

Ron was absent-mindedly scratching a scar on his freckled arm. Harry grabbed Ron's wrist and turned it over so he could observe the fine, long grazes that disappeared under his sleeves.

Harry felt like he was given a cold shower: he was acting like an idiot, drinking Firewhiskey and playing Quidditch and…_being kissed_, when his life, _their_ lives had been endangered and the war was raging. This was the time to prepare himself, to grit his teeth and to face his destiny, not to crawl under the Burrow's security blanket.

His head still pounding but cold running through his veins now, Harry broke the silence, « Do they hurt? I mean, your brothers really should not joke about this. That was a nasty attack.» Ron shrugged, leaning on his elbows. «They'd joke about Vol-» he stuttered but pulled himself together as he breathed, «Vol-Voldemort, if they could. The scars don't hurt as much anymore. The healer at St. Mungo's told me that they would eventually fade. But Hermione…» Ron paused and Harry thought that he looked struck by lightning.

Harry let Ron's wrist go and impatiently said, «What, Hermione?»

Ron pressed his hands on his thighs and looked down. His red hair was furiously shining under the harsh light that was coming in. Harry pondered on Ron's worried expression: was that it? Was Hermione sick? Why didn't they tell him? Anger started to flow in his chest as Ron answered, « She did not want us to tell you.»

Harry was tempted to retort something very mean, but the concern on Ron's face looked genuine. Harry muttered, «Since when do you listen to her?» As if he had not heard him, Ron whispered, « She still has those…attacks. It only happens at night: she screams in a way that would make your blood freeze and then, she's really hard to wake up. When she does, she says she has a sharp pain in her stomach. Blimey, it's scary.» Ron shivered as he incredulously added, «Didn't you hear her scream last night?»

Harry shook his head: he had not been in a suitable state to be a witness to Hermione's cries.

Ron's eyes crossed Harry's as he confided, his voice slightly shaking, « Ginny came to get me. She couldn't wake her up. I went to see her.» Harry silently looked at him and Ron added, a little flustered, « I sat beside her. I held her hand. Sometimes it works, but this time I had to shake her a bit and I had to talk loudly to her. She finally woke up, and her eyes, Harry, her eyes…»

Ron's eyes widened and concern crept in Harry's stomach. Ron had lost his nonchalant way of speaking now as he was reminding himself, « She looked like she'd just seen hell. She was shaking so much Ginny had to lie to her side to calm her down and Hermione grabbed her like she was a Portkey.»

Harry knew Hermione had been hit last spring with a vicious hex, but Madam Pomfrey was quite adamant that she would recover. He slowly said, now sitting upright on the bed, trying not to lash in anger at his friend for not telling him this before, «Did she went back to St. Mungo's? Do her parents know?»

Ron gnawed on his nails as he answered, «The healers said they would have to wait for the hidden hex to come out to do anything.» Harry frowned as Ron paused. After a heavy silence, Ron continued, « Yeah, they think there was another spell hidden in the first one, they say that dark magic can conceal that. I know Mum is brewing potions for her and Hermione says it helps. Professor Lupin is reading about hexes and Hermione is going through Dad's old books to read about this. But she did not want to tell that to her parents because,» and Harry thought Ron did a good impression of Hermione as he vehemently said, «honestly, what could the Muggle healers do more?»

Even if Harry was furious and his head threatened to burst open any minute now, he was somehow reminded that he almost lost everything that night. He lost Sirius to the dark veil (his stomach twisted and he urged himself to calm down) and Ron was badly hurt, Hermione was still dealing with the residual of the spell and Ginny, Luna, Neville, Tonks, Lupin, even Professor Dumbledore could have been…He shook his head.

_Don't even start to think about this_

He swallowed hard, « Why didn't you write to me about this?» Ron indignantly snapped, «I _wanted_ to write, you know. I learned my lesson. Last year, you got so furious with all that secret Order stuff I told Hermione you would go through the roof if you knew she was hiding something. She said it was not hiding, it was _keeping silence_ on something.» «Yeah, there's a world of differences, » retorted Harry.

Really trying not to address Harry's anger, Ron pat his arm, « And you, mate, are you okay?»

Harry took the time to think about this, about what he learned about the prophecy and what his life meant now. He resolved himself to say a few words that were burning his lips, « I'm okay. I think a lot about Sirius though.» He lifted himself from the comfy mattress and picked up his trousers. Ron watched him get dressed, waiting for him to continue. Still turning his back to him, Harry peeked by the window and he shrugged, «Sirius was the only person I considered my family.»

From the corner of his eye, he could see Ron unfold his lengthy frame and soon, their elbows were touching as they were looking out the window, peering at the sunny sky. Harry fought the tears that menaced to moisten his eyes and he cleared his throat. Ron looked away as he murmured, « My family is yours, you know that. You'll be always welcome here.»

Harry nodded: Ron was always so generous with him when he should have been obsessively protective about his family.

_Isn't it the most precious thing?_

Harry wondered what he had brought – directly and indirectly - to the Weasleys.

_Bad news, Percy's voluntary exile from the family and an awful deal of near-death injuries._

«I know, Ron. T-thanks,» said Harry in an awkward manner. As they looked at each other, they heard a knock on the door: Ginny's face peeked in the room and Harry squinted as he saw her radiant smile and her peppy face, suddenly feeling faint.

_This is almost insulting. Looking so nice and fresh and lovely and_

Ginny smiled at them with a small twinkle in her eye, or so Harry tried to convince himself. « Sorry to disturb, kids, but Mum's waiting for us downstairs. Get ready for a scrub.» Ron rolled his eyes to the sky.

* * *

« I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS…MY OWN CHILDREN…WHAT HAVE I FAILED…THIS IS UNEXCUSABLE…HERMIONE, WHAT WOULD YOUR PARENTS THINK….HARRY, GOOD LORD…» Mrs Weasley was shouting and her voice broke as she looked at Ginny. «Oh Ginny, my baby girl, what did your brothers do to you?» she wailed, grabbing her only daughter as Ginny accepted the maternal embrace with a sigh.

Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing beside the dinner table where were already sitting a falsely stern Bill and an annoyed Mr. Weasley. The twins had a bored look on their face and Ron was explaining he had nothing to do with this mess. Harry was trying to hold his thoughts together as he could not help glancing at Ginny.

_Why isn't she looking at me?_

Hermione's face was pallid: she wavered and Ginny grabbed her arm as Bill quickly got up to his feet to help her to a chair, « Hermione, you should sit now. You don't look well.» Hermione uneasily sat on the chair and she held her stomach as she was in pain. Mr Weasley looked concerned and he poured her a glass of pumpkin juice, « Are you fine, dear?» Hermione drew her hands to her face and her muffled voice came behind her fingers, « I had a dream. A _bad_ dream.»

Harry was happy Mrs Weasley stopped shouting: she rubbed her hands together and Harry saw her cast an uncertain glance to her husband. She called, turning her head towards the living room, «Remus, have you found something?» Harry was surprised to see Remus Lupin emerge from the room with a moth-eaten book in his hand. «_Superior remedies against jinxes, hexes and spells_», read Harry on the torn leather cover.

Lupin's face slightly betrayed his irritation, «I'm _working_ on it, Molly.» He dropped the book on the table and pat Hermione's hand as he sat beside her, « Now, tell me what was your dream about. Was it like the others? What did you see?»

Bill snorted and Harry heard him say, in a very deep and low voice, «Pulling a Trewlaney, Remus?»

Lupin did not hear that, or perhaps he decided to ignore Bill: he watched Hermione take a quick sip of pumpkin juice. She raised her head and her haunted eyes disturbed Harry: the Hermione that was looking at him now was miles away from the laughing, charming, drunk-to-her-eyes girl who leaned on him yesterday evening.

His anger dissipated quickly: hesitantly, he rested a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Her voice quivered and Lupin took her hand in his to comfort her, as she started to tell him, trying to assure her voice, « The dream is…I'm in a huge room with very high ceilings. It looks like Hogwarts, but I'm pretty sure it's not. Ron and Ginny are there…and Luna Lovegood.» A wrinkle creased her forehead. «Neville too, I think. I feel I have to find Harry, it's hugely important that I do so, but he's nowhere to be found. I hear screams coming from all over the place. And then I see him…Harry. He's standing in front of a strong…a bright haze. He's talking, he's saying something but I don't understand a word…He takes a step into it and I can't see him anymore. I'm screaming, I'm running towards the haze that is getting darker, I want to go fetch him, but there is a voice…»

Hermione kept silence for a moment. Harry felt his head violently pounding as his pulse accelerated. « The voice said I couldn't go there. I could hear this terrible, horrible laugh and it becomes blurry after that. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I want to conjure something, but nothing comes to mind, my mind is blank…» Her voice rose sharply in panic as she said the last words and she abruptly ended her sentence. Harry was getting jittery.

_Bright haze, not coming back...fits the profile. Hermione has been dreaming for weeks now that I'm dying._

«And then you wake up,» murmured Lupin, stroking her hand, furtively glancing at Arthur Weasley. Hermione nodded and Harry heard again Bill's deep voice, «Severe post-hex trauma…don't look further.»

Lupin wiped the tear that fell on his hand from Hermione's eye and Harry could not help noticing that all the eyes in the room were alternately looking at his friend and at him. Ginny lowered her eyes, as she was tightly pursing her lips.

Hermione swallowed back her tears and she asked Lupin with haste, «Do you think I'm dreaming about the future or the past?» Lupin shook his head and gently scolded her, «Now Hermione, you _know_ better than this. Dreams are dreams. Nothing more, nothing less. Don't go looking for something that isn't there. Maybe your body is trying to liberate itself from the spell.»

After that statement, Harry thought that was quite paradoxical that Lupin asked, « Do you remember anything else?»

Hermione frowned and Ron poured pumpkin juice in her glass again. She added, «The thing is, the voice is not trying to scare me. It's sad, really soft but so sad…what scares me is not seeing Harry. I know I'm dreaming but I get caught in it because it feels so real, I can touch people around me…I feel defenseless, I feel like Harry is d-» She stopped and hid her face again behind her hands.

Ron was clasping his hands, clearly hesitant to touch her. Harry saw Lupin articulate in silence to Mr Weasley something that suspiciously looked like «Order of the Phoenix». Molly Weasley tenderly stroke Hermione' s bushy hair and said slowly, «Shush, sweetheart. It's only a dream. Harry's here. You're all taken care of.»

Suddenly, the front door opened and Nymphadora Tonks came in, holding the longest french bread Harry had ever seen in his life. «Wotcher, guys, » she chirped as she added with an amused frown, «Yikes, Harry, you look like you boozed your brains out…» She held what she was going to say, as she watched Hermione silently sobbing in her hands.

Lupin rested his chin in his hand and slowly said, « This cannot go on. The poor girl is afraid of sleeping now. Arthur, we should bring her back to St. Mungo's.»

Bill was scratching his scruffy cheek and he slowly spoke, « I just thought…could she had been hit with a contamination spell? I've seen those on embalmed bodies in Egypt, but it's as old and nasty dark magic as it can get. I wouldn't be surprise to see this coming from a Death Eater. I am not sure I've seen any on these conjured on alive beings, I mean, alive _human_ beings. But when you want to do a lot of damage, those kinds of spells can do a lot of harm. »

Tonks opened her already large eyes and shrieked, « CONTAMINATION SPELL! Man, those are nasty buggers and they're tough to sort out.» Harry would have been amused another day to see her hair go from shocking pink to lemon yellow, but she looked dead serious as she asked, «Who's got hit with a _Contamino_? Hermione?» Lupin shook his head, «It's only an assumption. The Healers at St. Mungo's have no idea. We should get back there for more tests.»

Tonks dropped the bread on the table and shrugged, «_Contamino_ has a counter-spell, but it's a bloody tough one to conjure. I don't remember what it is…Bill, does _Pazlumina_ make any sense to you?» Bill corrected, suddenly animated, «You mean _Paxlumina_. Yeah, I heard about it. »

Hermione clearly wanted to hear more from Tonks, but Mr Weasley, in a surprisingly harsh voice, inquired to the young Auror, «How do you know about those spells? They don't teach you that in Auror training, do they?» Tonks looked bewildered, as she answered back, "Well… Arthur…Er…No. They don't really dabble into that, but Mum has a huge collection of dark magic books since she needs them for her work. I read a few of them, a long time ago. I guess it must have stuck in my memory.»

Harry felt uneasy: Mr Weasley was looking at Tonks with a very serious face and Mrs Weasley was fidgeting, looking at her husband, her face frozen in a stern demeanour.

Hermione calmed down and Harry could not help but shake his head when he saw her intently listening to Tonks, «Potions can help to make the spell go away, but sometimes, it needs to be extracted from you in another way. Healers specialized in dark magic can do that. But even with all the hoopla about gender equality hiring at St. Mungo's, it's getting tougher to find a female Healer.» Lupin scratched his head and bluntly asked, « Why a female Healer?»

Tonks sat besides Bill and she retorted, her eyes contradicting her scornful tone, « My, my…Good ol' fashioned male chauvinist, are you, Remus? To my knowledge, only _women_, witches can extract a contamination spell by using the _Paxlumina_. Ah, don't worry, Hermione; I think it only leaves a small crescent shaped scar. Mum works sometimes with those dark magic Healers and she told me once this incredible story about a male Healer who tried it and the poor chap got a lump as big as a Quaffle in his stomach. He died. _Not_ good. »

«Bearers can do that too,» Bill spurted out, looking almost surprised he had spoken up.

Lupin looked at him with an unusual impatience, snapping, « A Bearer? Where do you think you're going to find a Bearer?» Bill pulled on his ponytail with a distracted hand and he murmured, somewhat unconvinced, «I have no idea.»

Tonks fished in Bill's plate for a piece of toast, « Remus, this could be so much easier that you think. You know, there's an Auror who _happens_ to be a Bearer that works for the Ministry. She's not a Healer but maybe she'll…» Harry jolted when Lupin soundly clapped his hands together. His eyes were gleaming a warning to Tonks. She startled and she then intently munched the piece of toast, exchanging a covert look with Bill. Fred and George wailed at the same time, «What's a Bearer? What are you not saying?»

Adults exchanged knowing looks but they did not care to answer. Harry clenched his fists when he understood that the _omerta_ was falling again on the Burrow.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. A Friend An Ally An Equal A Sister

**Chapter 6**

**«A friend. An ally. An equal. A sister. »**

* * *

For the next few days, Mrs Weasley opened the window early each morning to let a big owl in. 

The majestic black owl solemnly tapped its beak on the windowpane before flying above the table with a cluster of tiny pouches attached to its feet. When Mrs Weasley carefully detached the sachets, small full vials rattled against one another and the black owl flew away, getting from Hedwig an aggressive hoot. To Harry's dread, the vials were accompanied with parchments covered by a large and sharp handwriting, from which he immediately recognized its Ts and Ds, having seen them a couple of times on his essays.

Remus Lupin, who seemed to have established his quarters at the Burrow, and Mrs Weasley intently read Severus Snape's parchments, their faces contracted in a resolute expression. Harry felt uneasy that they were carefully following the potions' master orders. Harry hated the idea that Snape was needed for anything that was related to his friend's health.

One of those mornings, as Harry and Ron were eating a late breakfast and were casting quizzical looks at the small army of repugnant potions in front of Hermione, Mrs Weasley placed on the table another foul smelling cup of a brownish green brew that made Harry gag from inhaling the bitter smell.

«They must taste awfully bad, » he said with sympathy to Hermione, who was gulping them, almost unblinking. She shrugged before she drank the last one, «It's not as bad at it looks. At least I feel better after drinking them. » Ron quickly glanced at Harry and he could see that his friend was not buying into this.

The dark circles around her eyes were fading, but it seemed to Harry that Hermione's eyes were permanently glistening with a feverish glow. While spreading pumpkin preserves on his toast, Harry wondered, «What are they exactly?» Hermione lowered the cup and lectured, sounding almost doctoral, as she was pointing the small vials, «SoulResting potion. Serenity potion. Containing potion… These are all potions that will contribute to resorb the hex.»

She shivered and whispered, when Mrs Weasley turned her back to them, «Whatever you may think, Harry, Snape is a very skillful potion master. I've done researches in Mr Weasley's old books and some of those potions are borderline dark magic philtres. I'm not sure that even Madam Pomfrey would go into that.»

To this admission, Harry whispered back, his eyes almost rolling out of their sockets, «_Dark magic_, Hermione…what's going on with you? How can you drink those?» She glanced quickly at Mrs Weasley and she sternly murmured, «We _can_ trust Snape for being knowledgeable on dark magic and what may heal it, I guess.»

Ron grumbled, as he was drinking a cup of tea, «How can you be sure he's not poisoning you?» His intervention was followed by a somewhat hollow sound: Mrs Weasley gave him a smack behind the head and she indignantly spurted, «Ronald Weasley! You should be happy that we know a potion master that is able to brew those potions for Hermione!» But Harry and Ron's intractable expressions led Mrs Weasley to look down and she said with a falsely cheerful voice,« It's only for now, dear. Only for now. We have to wait.»

Ron had his eyes on his eggs but it seemed to Harry that he was trying to conceal his anger as he asked back, with a demanding inflexion, «What are we waiting for?» Mrs Weasley looked a bit surprise when Ron, his cheeks slightly blushing, shouted out, «I mean, for whom do we have to wait for? This…Are we waiting for this…this Auror?»

Mrs Weasley dropped her pan in a loud rumble and Harry could see her eyes making a determined statement as she firmly said, «I know you're worried for Hermione, dear,» Ron blushed furiously, « but you have to trust your father on this. He really wantsus to be safe. We _have_ to wait. »

After a few days of Snape's potions regimen, Hermione reported that the nightmares were fading. Although he felt frustrated and suspicious to see that Hermione's road to wellness was consequential to Snape's skills, Harry was relieved to see that she started to act like her old self again. She spent an enormous time by herself reading books that should have been thrown away, in Harry's opinion, because they were falling apart - «You don't just throw away books, Harry,» she said with a fierce glimpse in her eye, as he was teasing her - and she spent an irritating amount of time with Ginny, whispering and laughing. Harry had to admit to himself he had never been happier to see her bicker with Ron again.

One afternoon, having foolishly accepted to get trashed by Ron at Wizards chess, Hermione had to face with a tight lip his newfound resolution to work on his competitive side. Harry stifled a snort as Ron loudly exclaimed himself, «Blimey, this brain of yours is _definitely_ not wired for this!» whenever she lost a piece to him. Hermione, after a while, looked at him and calmly retorted, «Maybe we'll talk about my brain when yours will be able to proceed how ridiculous you are, Ron,» as she left the chessboard, the game unfinished. Ron looked at Harry, shrugging and lifting his hands to the sky, sending a clear non-verbal message to him that meant _what have I done, mate?_

_Ron, you're so bad at this. It's appalling. The problem is, I don't think I'm much better than you are._

This was starting to deeply annoy Harry: Ginny smiled at him, small talked with him, but he was waiting to see something in her eye, a sparkle, an invitation that could mean they could talk or _something_. Harry was writing scenarios in his head: maybe she was waiting to confess - that thought got him red-faced when she passed him the turnips - but Ginny,

_If she is the forward and courageous girl she's rumoured to be_

would have to give him _at least_ an explanation for that kiss. Harry was mentally rehearsing faces and answers as he was looking at her at supper, trying to anticipate what he would do when her declaration would inevitably happen.

_Wow, Ginny, I had no idea – no, I can't act _

_So you're attracted to me? I'm touched – nah, too emotive for a bloke _

_Don't blush Ginny, I think you're lovely – chivalrous…Not bad at all, Potter_

The problem was that she did not look at all attracted to him anymore and when she turned to him at the dinner table, it was to bluntly say, «You got spinach on your teeth, Harry.»

A week and a half after, on a stormy afternoon, Harry was walking alone in circles in Ron's room trying to make sense of what followed the event he secretly had called _the Incident_.

_Did she hate the kiss?_

_Could I have really bad breath?_

_What have I done?_

A door opened in the corridor and Harry heard Hermione's voice sighing as a mattress creaked. He slowly approached the girls' room and peeked in: Hermione was lying on her back, absent-mindedly stroking her stomach and she was reading a book. Harry knocked on the door and she sat up, «Yes?»

Harry pushed the door open and saw all the opened books on the floor. He noted that Hermione looked ill at ease.

Harry took a few steps in the bleak room and then it hit him in the face: in all his Ginny-obsessed reflections of the last days, he had listened to Hermione but did not really get a good _look_ at her. She looked terrible. Her usually invasive bushy hair was flat on her head and her eyes looked almost bulging. He swallowed and hesitantly said, «How _are_ you, Hermione?»

Hermione drew her hair from her face in a loose bun and gave him a twisted smile. Harry forgot all about Ginny: Hermione was not well, even if she was sleeping better now and it came to Harry's mind that whatever she had been saying for the last days were lies he had been too happy to swallow. Her arms looked too thin, her face too gaunt, even if her eyes radiated intelligence as usual. A mix of concern and anger crept in his stomach: he bravely smiled back.

_If I look assured, maybe she'll stop fearing for me and those awful dreams will stop._

Hermione closed her book and answered, «I'm resting, that's all. All those potions are making me a bit sleepy.» Harry slowly sat on the bed at her feet and looked at her without saying a word. Hermione looked reflective as her brown eyes dived in his and she gently assured him, «I'm okay, Harry. I really am.» The coldness of his voice surprised him, «Yes, I'm sure you are. »

Hermione seemed to be fighting against herself; she suddenly moved near him. She hesitantly said, «Now, I know what you are thinking…» She was looking for her words but Harry did not give her a chance to find them, as he flatly said, « Don't bother. I can tell what you're thinking, though. You're thinking that it is better to conceal the truth than to be honest with your friends.»

Hermione's resolution weakened and her voice carried a desperate accent, «Harry, I don't want you to be worried about this. I am in good hands. Really. Everything is going to be just fine. One cannot die from this kind of spell, and Snape's potions are…» Harry let go a sarcastic laugh that covered his worry, «You don't want me to _worry_ about this. Hermione, you look awful. You scream in pain in your dreams...» Hermione interrupted him and muttered, «Not anymore, Harry.»

Hermione's answer made Harry jolt and he angrily snapped back, « Well, I have the _right_ to worry, Hermione. Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? You told _Ron_, and he had to tell me everything.» Hermione was clearly taken aback by his outburst and she opened her mouth to say something, but Harry continued with fury in his voice, a fury against a lot of issues, a fury that was brewing for months now and that had finally found the perfect occasion to blow up, « Hermione, I've lost so many people… Everything is being concealed from me. Dumbledore hid uttermost important facts that he did not dare to tell me, you did not _care_ to share your condition with me…ENOUGH! I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore! » Harry took a breath and continued, his voice a bit calmer, « If my friends, my _best_ friends do not feel I can take this, what trust can I have in them?»

Harry got on his feet and stepped on a book, almost falling down on his face. He was going to flee the room, furious against Hermione and against himself from shouting, but Hermione took his arm in an authoritative manner. When he looked at her face, Harry saw something of the shut-up-and-listen-to-me Hermione that made his anger evaporate at once.

She dryly shot back, «Overly dramatic does not work for you, Harry. You're not the poor little misunderstood thing you would like to be right now. I know you've lost a lot, more than me, more than Ron, more than anybody in the _whole_ wizarding world…»

Hermione took a deep breath and grasped Harry's arm harder as she said, « Some people are sincerely attached to you, Harry. People want to keep you alive and protect you. Good Godric!» Hermione shook his arm harder as she cried out, «Don't you see that the contamination spell is nothing? You see me as this…_traitor_ friend», Hermione snorted, «that is suffering because of you. You must realize that this is bound to happen because I'm ready to get hex if it means that I'm helping you to do what you have to do. I've chosen to fight with you! What do I have to do to make this enter your thick head?»

Hermione defiantly crossed her arms and Harry sharply took in a breath as she murmured, in a soft and broken voice, «You can choose your family, Harry. Accept that I am what I am.» Hermione fixed her brown eyes in his. «A friend. An ally. An equal. A sister. I did not tell you about the spell because you had enough on your mind. So hex me.»

Silence spread its dark wings into the room, as the rumble of the thunder could be heard outside. Harry closed his eyes and his head tilted forward. It was difficult to admit it, but she was right. He could not be held responsible of all the choices people were making. He could try to convinced them, maybe, to change their minds, but he knew he could not do a thing about keeping Hermione and Ron away from him.

When he opened his eyes, Hermione was still standing, and he could see the corners of her lips twitching.

_Why is this so hard to say?_

He berated himself to say quietly, «I do - » Harry hesitated, « _care_ a great deal about you, Hermione. I'm really worried about seeing you like this.»

Hermione softly answered back, «Well, I do love you too, Harry, but I felt that you had mourning to do this summer, not worrying about a hex that is going to be cured soon.» They stood face to face in silence, looking at each other and Hermione's faith in her healing brought warmth to him. Hermione clutched her hands while saying, «You know what? They told me I was very strong to have resisted so long to the hidden spell. They usually take a few days to come out. Tonks even told me that it is sad that the _Paxlumina_ could not be self administrated, because she thought I could do it.»

Harry nodded and Hermione murmured, «I can fight, you know. I can defend myself. If not, I'll learn too.» Her bun untied itself and her hair fell on her shoulders as another voice gravely pledged, « Me too, Harry.» The floor creaked and Ron entered the room; he sat on Ginny's bed and they all looked at each other, a little awkward. Something did a somersault in Harry's stomach as the rain started tapping against the window.

_My family_

Hermione sat beside Ron and broke the silence, «This being cleared now, I do think we have much better to do that to put our friendship to the test. Don't you think there is a suspicious silence around this Auror?» Ron rubbed his eyes and he bitterly said, « I wouldn't say silence, Hermione. Mum and Dad are fighting real loud about it right now.»

Harry learned at that moment that Molly and Arthur Weasley had been quarrelling behind closed doors since Tonks talked about her colleague that could be of some help with Hermione's condition. Ron stretched andtousled his hair with his hand as he carried on the conversation, « We didn't even need the Extendable Ears to hear what they were saying. I never heard Dad angry like that. Mum said she really wants this Auror to come home to help you, Hermione. She told Dad that Moody or Tonks could reach her in an hour. Dad is against it for now, he says. He says it's not safe and that Snape's potions are helping you for the moment.»

Hermione bit her lip and frowned, «Ron, you said your father was convinced it's not safe…Do you know if he's talking about the Burrow or about this Auror?» Ron gave a regretful look, «Not clear. Dad said the Order of the Phoenix must reunite before taking any decisions. He said that Lupin was on his side and that Professor Dumbledore would have to agree on this. He also said…» Ron stopped and looked at Harry with a wince. « He had really harsh words for Tonks. He said that her _frequentations_ are not always clear. Well, he said that in another way, but I'lljump overfrom the swearing part.»

Harry scratched his cheek and took the time to think. «Isn't a little late to ponder on Tonks' loyalties? She fought with all of us in the Department of Mysteries. She's a member of the Order. She has taken a severe hex: I guess she showed what side she's on.» Ron looked profoundly embarrassed as he stuttered, « I'm...I'm so sorry to say that, Harry, but Dad said she's parent with the Blacks. Her family was born on the wrong side of the fence, if you know what I mean.»

Harry forcefully shook his head, refusing to doubt Tonks' integrity for another second, «It doesn't make sense, Ron. Tonks' colleague hunts down dark wizards as she does. She must be okay.»

Hermione raised a hand to draw attention and Harry could read in her face her Miss-Know-it-all expression that usually preceded a lecture, « Harry, you're being unbelievably naive about this. In this book,» shepulled a book, titled «_Comparative History of Defense against the Dark Arts and Evolution of Dark Magic_», from the pile at her feet,« it is stated that spies have been trying to invade the Ministry since the end of the First War. The Aurors' recruitment is quite difficult, because being able to hunt down dark wizards implies that good Aurors have a shadow in them. An Auror must understand and predict what Dark magic adepts are going to do. The Aurors that are hired usually have a dark side to them. And some of them have a darker side than others. I think your father is being prudent, Ron.»

Ron murmured, looking at his hands, «All the Aurors I know are weirdoes…taking exception to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione, what you're saying there is dark and darker. Who can we trust, then?»

They thought about this in silence and Harry soon realized how close Ron and Hermione were sitting, their arms almost touching. Harry caught something in Hermione's eye as she looked at Ron.

Harry hastily said, « Well, I'll go check on this in your father's library,» and he turned away to hurry out of the room as Ron was dumbstruck, «What?» Harry smirked as he closed the room behind him and he listened for a second to the rain that was pouring hard on the roof.

Going back to the boys' room, he heard a «Psst!» followed by a hand firmly grabbing his belt from behind. Too surprised to resist, Harry saw the door of the broom closet close on him and for a moment, he could not see a thing.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	7. The no nonsense usefulness of a cupboard

_100 percentfluff._

_I'll do a happy dance if you find this scene funny or touching because I was going for a mix of these two._

_Next chapter will lead you to a darker thread in the story._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**The no-nonsense usefulness of a broom cupboard**

Darkness was thick at first, but soon Harry could distinguish the fine golden dust that lazily floated in the air. He coughed and his hand brushed against a warm arm as he was sneezing. The broom cupboard was narrow and shallow. Through the ill-adjusted planks of the squeaking door, a crescent of light was glowing on Ginny's face.

Harry felt too close to her for comfort: he flattened himself against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. After not being able to move closer to her in the last days, Harry was dizzy to be in front of Ginny at forearm length, all of the sudden.

But here he was, almost nose to nose with her and deeply inhaling a faint scent of her peppermint soap and something else, something flowery that was going right to his brains and blocking the passage to any rational thought he could have had. It did not help that he could feel warmth emanate from her as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Harry squinted a bit and realized, with rising flurry, that she was looking quite pleased with herself.

Harry felt on the verge of dying from speech inadequacy as he whispered, «Well…_hi_.» Ginny whispered back, smiling in a friendly way, «Hi, Harry. What's up?»

Harry took a second to think, «Ahem…I've been talking to Hermione and-» He realized that he was not going into the right direction. He shot back, « What are _you_ doing here?» Ginny shrugged, and Harry could see in her face a glimpse of teasing.

_I'm a loser._

«Same as you are - coughing and sneezing. Seriously, » she said, showing an Extendable Ear that she shoved in the back pocket of her trousers, «I was eavesdropping. You seem to have a very close relationship with Hermione.» Harry tilted his head towards her and stared at her ruthlessly cheerful face.

Harry mumbled, «Yeah, she's a friend.» He saw her eyes goggling at the ceiling and she shook her head with an abashed expression, «A friend, Harry? She's like your sister. I knew you had such strong feelings for her but you were quite blunt. You really ticked her off by accusing her of not being a trusty friend.»

_You heard that? I'm a looooooser._

Harry licked his lips, and decided that the best defence was to attack, «Do you often listen to private conversations?» Ginny's expression stiffened a bit but her tone was still light as she answered, «Who are you, one of my brothers or something? I listen to doors only when I feel shut out.»

Harry did not understand this: he had seen her with Hermione, infuriatingly attached to her shoulder for the last week. He slowly said, «She did not shut you out, Ginny. You knew about her condition, didn't you?»

Ginny crossed her arms and she defiantly looked at him, «I'm not being shut out by _her_. _You_'re shutting me out. Are you trying to avoid me, Harry Potter? » He could see the determination in her brown eyes and a small hint of green powder on her eyelids. Warmth went from his heart to his face.

_Harry Potter._

He pondered how strange his name could sound like a whip in some mouths and like silk in others.

He crossed his arms too, starting to feel defensive, «I'm not avoiding you, Ginny…or anybody else, for that matter.» She tilted her head to the side and said, « Well, you're not _talking_ to me. I feel like I'm scorching your tongue every time I ask you something and you're looking at me in a very creepy way at dinner. » Harry's mouth was wide open. His mind was trying to fixate on something that could express his outrage.

_Well, you kissed me and then you ignored me. What am I suppose to do, with all your family around? With Ron around?_

This was a new and very disturbing thought.

Ginny, as she was reading his mind, asked, «It has to do with you kissing me, isn't it?» Harry was Stupefixed by her boldness: he could only say in a croaked voice, « Technically, _you_ kissed me.»

_That is very important. It's about you Ginny, you're the one who's supposed to be fancying me. I'm the one being fancied on, here._

Ginny leaned her back against the wall and studied him with intensity, «Oh, I understand now. You're embarrassed and you don't know how to react. I should have thought about this.» They let the silence infiltrate the broom closet and he could not find anything clever to say.

Ginny rubbed her nose and said softly, «Are you not talking to me because you regret we kissed?» Harry felt his palms becoming very sweaty and he vehemently repeated, «_You_ kissed me!» Ginny gave him a slight push on the forearm, «You're not answering the question.»

Her fingers had left a nice tingle on his arm and he whispered, «No.» Ginny did notlook satisfied with this answer, «_No_ what?» And then, as his heart was sinking down to his feet, he saw the mischief glistening in her eyes.

_She's playing with me._

Harry was trying to get a hold of himself.

Gone, the nice resolutions, the lines that he had prepared. It could not qualify as a declaration, isn't it? Harry had wished so much to be really cool about this,

_I'm flattered Ginny_

self-assured and completely in control

_that you feel this way,_

and, Merlin, why not, to act like a ladies' man.

_why don't you give me back that kiss you stole from me?_

It was not going near to what he was expecting, aka Ginny looking at him with adoring eyes and blushing her way through him. It was going directly to the throes of hell. He had imagined himself being the heroic man, showing off those newfound muscles a little, trying to convey the Potter charm into a soulful look, but he felt like an inexperienced child.

Another frightful thought raced to his mind: he _was_ the inexperienced one in that closet.

To his uttermost confusion, he remembered that Ginny looked like she was mastering the love _thing_ last year. As he pushed away Cho Chang's tear-soaked face from his mind, Harry tried to regain his dignity by raising slightly his chin and went for a manly attitude as he affirmed, « I'm not one to regret, Ginny.»

Ginny gravely nodded, the mischief menacing to take over her lips, «So you don't regret kissing me.» Harry quickly replied back, now more at ease, «No, I don't regret you kissed me.»

Ginny squinted her eyes and slowly said, her hands in the air as she was giving support to her words, «Okay, we're not getting anywhere with this. Do you think you could _want_…– ah, let's say, in the near future – to…_eventually_…continue to_ not _regret_…_ being kissed…by_ me_?»

Harry looked her in the eye and he could not stifle the laughter that was growing in him. He bowed his head forward and he heard her amused giggle. Their eyes locked again and Harry felt something rise in his chest, a strong and overpowering wave when he saw her face.

_She's blushing. _

Ginny's voice was softer than ever when she said, «I like when you laugh, Harry. The thing is, I like you a lot.»

They gazed at each other and Harry found the courage to speak, «I thought you were going out with other guys-» he hastily swallowed as she opened huge eyes, half shocked half laughing, «I mean, with a guy. Michael What's-his-name, no, Dean…» Ginny's fine eyebrows arched and her smile turned to sly,« It is over. With Michael _and_ Dean. I've got loads of spare time now.»

Ginny was not leaning against the wall anymore and she stepped forward as he nervously added, « What about Ron?» Ginny shrugged, «Who?»

He finally indulged in bringing his hand to her flamboyant hair and he stroke the lock that was brushing against her cheek. When she threw her arms around his neck and he shyly smiled before kissing her, this time _really_ kissing her, he could only think that the loveliest things in life, after all, could be found in a broom cupboard.

* * *

_Now, will you find the time to look in your own cupboard to see if you have a review for me: ) ?_


	8. Witnesses Accomplices and Spies

_Of course, this chapter is based on HBP. This story will unfold through the eyes of a lot of the characters - adults and teens. Please take in consideration, for the next scene, that Wormtail is not there. This scene goes from a POV to another and back again._

_Oh, and just to keep it clear so you don't run for your life: Snape is not in love and will not "fall in love"._

* * *

**Chapter 8 **

**Witnesses, Accomplices and Spies**

Somewhere, in a sinister burg…

_When the black-clad man and the desperate-looking blond woman clasped their hands together, the woman with the long black hair hesitantly drew her wand to join them in an Unbreakable Vow. _

_But a third woman, the one that was there against herself and against all her common sense, gasped against her trembling hand. _

_She was stuck against her will in a tiny, invisible room created by the man's effective and strong magic and all issues were spell-locked. While frenetically muttering counter-spells to be ready to move quickly if necessary, her eyes were not leaving the alarming scene that was unfolding, a few feet from her, through the peephole in the door._ _Her lean body against the magical wall, she swallowed hard and her mind started racing, as she asked herself, «What would Dumbledore think of this? Should I intervene? What's the kid supposed to do?»_

_Her heart fluttered when she saw a first snake of light rise from Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. The spy knew she was there to protect the man, Dumbledore asked her to and that darn magic her former professor had conjured was more than an habitual Claudaporta. The spy suddenly remembered an ancient spell her mother taught her for defence, as she was a little paranoid about dark magic…well, she had good reasons, didn't she? _

_The young woman was looking at her two aunts and felt slightly sick to her stomach. If her Mum had decided otherwise, she would maybe have become one of them. She tried to shiver away that thought._

_Firmly holding her wand in her two hands, she closed her eyes and tapped it against her forehead. She pointed the tip towards the man, not knowing if the spell could go through those magical walls. Intently looking at the man, she mumbled with despair, «Immunitanimus.» She repeated the incantation two more times, trying to focus all her energy towards the man, as the snakes of light were tying him to the blond woman. Only then, she let herself slip to the floor, exhausted. She rubbed her arms in a self-reconforting gesture. _

_Doubt flooded her: did she do the right thing? Was this supposed to happen?_

_She decided to keep quiet what she had done._

_For the moment._

* * *

A man, tall and sullen, his face frozen into a harsh expression, stayed a long time on the threshold of the neglected house, his cloak floating around him as the wind was bringing the earthy smell of the upcoming rain. He watched the two women walk away in the night and he saw them abruptly Disapparate. 

His eyes were dark and inscrutable, but a deep wrinkle in his forehead gave away his bitterness. A nervous tick agitated his left eyelid. Breaking the silence, he took a deep breath. He was furiously thinking of the consequences of what he had just done. Racking his brains to make and remake all possibilities that were open to him, he could not identify what was the most damaging event: going for the Unbreakable Vow or having a witness to this mess.

He should have felt that something like that was coming his way, when he received Narcissa's owl this morning as Professor Dumbledore was sitting in his living room. While he was opening the letter, Dumbledore's blue eyes were like magnets. A few hours later, the young _girl_ – he sneered as he thought of her heart shaped face- came knocking to his door, so full of herself, saying that Dumbledore had sent her for protection. He looked down on her, with a dismissive shrug, «_You_ need protection, Nymphadora?» Under the hood, he could see her violet hair: she shot him back a glum look and her voice flapped like a flag when she retorted, «_No_, Professor Dumbledore says that _you_ do.»

Thinking that Dumbledore believed he needed help was not comfortable: he pondered on the real reason why the Headmaster has sent a witness to this meeting, an Order of the Phoenix member, for all things. Did Dumbledore doubt his capacity to do his job? He choose to lock her out of this: what would she have done, Metamorphose herself into Wormtail? He snickered to that thought.

_Lupin_ would have enjoyed the sight, he was sure of it.

The uncertainty, more than the humid air, made him shiver and he felt suddenly frozen stiff as he closed the door. His nimble hand pulled down his sleeve on his bare arm. His black hair hid his face when he sat down on a worn armchair. He needed to be alone, to think about this, what he would say to the Headmaster and he felt the urge to send the girl home, as fast as he could. But before, he would have to play his cards wisely.

His fingers brushed against an old copy of «_Plants & Potions_»: he took it and turned a page, the words dancing in front of his eyes. He grabbed his wand with the other hand and waved it towards a wall, first muttering incomprehensible words then saying loudly, «_Declaudaporta_! Get out now.»

A pretty young woman, with long dark violet hair, pushed the door that had just appeared through the arabesques that adorned the faded wallpaper. He could see tension in her face and her forehead was lined by a frown. He thought she looked tired and could not help to wonder, with malice, how hard she worked her magic to get out of there.

He watched Tonks wave her wand towards the door she had just passed and she whispered, «_Disparere_!» The outlines of the door faded in the wallpaper. She laid her wand besides the empty glasses on the coffee table and dropped down on the couch, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. He felt her eyes on his face, and he lifted his from the magazine. She looked like she was waiting for an explanation.

_I don't owe you a thing._

Snape kept an expressionless face as she spoke, with growing irritation, « Did you ask Dumbledore for protection? Did you plan this little…_ceremony_?» Snape arched an eyebrow as Tonks was playing with a wisp of her violet hair, her lips tightly shut. She crossed her legs and she leaned towards him, as she continued, « What did you do to that door? That was not a simple _Claudaporta_, wasn't it? This was perfectly irresponsible. How could I have protected you if Lestrange had decided to hex you?» He watched her growing resentment and she added, almost barking, «Was it necessary to play the hero today? To go to the extent of this?»

Snape commented in a cold voice, disdainful, «I don't believe I will be discussing my motivations with an _Auror_. I'm surprised that you were frightened by this little display of strength between Bellatrix and me. Don't question my actions. I won't question yours.» Tonks lifted her chin defiantly, «_My_ actions? Do you have something to say about _my_ actions?»

Snape intently turned the page of his magazine and menace oozed from him as he said, «I wonder how the Minister of Magic would react if he learned that one of his Aurors, not only having failed to capture Bellatrix Lestrange last spring, has disobeyed to the strict order to disarm at sight. A simple _Claudaporta_ between you and your aunt…quite pitiful, I must say. You are taking great risks for your cover in this troubled time.»

He watched with a cruel satisfaction her face blush from nervousness and she loudly exclaimed herself, «Don't call her my aunt. _My_ cover? You can't be serious. You just put in danger numerous lives, including yours, so you could appease Lestrange galloping paranoia. You presented yourself as a spy! How much time are you going to be able to maintain this without getting caught? You could have got the information on the young Malfoy without resorting to the Unbreakable Vow.» Snape was keeping his face together but he was starting to boil: will this girl ever shut up and go away?

He looked at her with supreme indifference but Tonks was holding her side as she brought herself closer to him, «I'll give you my opinion, Snape, even if I know you couldn't care less about it-» Snape muttered, «That's perfectly true. Nice deduction, Auror Tonks.» Tonks clenched her jaw and she spurted, « Any wizard with the knowledge of what happened in the Department of Mysteries last spring would have trouble believing _your_ cover, seeing you with Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy.»

Snape leaned towards her and he watched her shiver when he started talking, his voice lashing sarcasm, «_Nymphadora_, is this your point, _if_ you have a point? You are _scolding_ me because I'm doing my job? You are quite brass to undermined my loyalty to the Order. I'm quite _touched_, though, to see you sacrifice your peace of mind for my fate, but if I may I say… You should worry for yours first. I'm surprised that you did not take the chance to arrest them. »

He kept silence a few seconds, as Tonks was tightening up on the couch. Snape continued, his voice now light, «But I should have known that family bonds are strong.» Tonks pursed her lips, and gave him a very Black look, «Are you threatening me?»

_Tonks swallowed and shame overcame her, followed closely by anger. This pretentious, contemptuous man, who visibly was ignoring that she had conjured a strong protection for him - she fiercely wished it had worked, she wanted him to be at her feet, thanking her for saving his skinny butt- this man was trying to bring on her back the fiasco of the operation that was held in the Ministry. She could not explain why he was able to always draw out from her troubled emotions and why she acted like a hysterical sissy when he confronted her. She tried to banish from her mind Remus' pained and rabid expression when she woke up at St. Mungo's after he told her Sirius was killed by Bella._

_She spoke again, trying to impose herself a calm demeanour, «You are doubting my sincerity. Fair enough. I was asked by Dumbledore to protect you tonight. If I had known it was Lestrange, I would have done it the other way. Instead of letting me observe the scene from outside the house, and maybe prepare a trap, no, you locked me out on purpose, didn't you? You did not want me to blow your cover. This way, you tied my hands together. I could not do a thing. » _

_In front of her, Snape threw on the table the magazine and he got to his feet, «Justifications…I had to be sure you were not seen or heard. I'm sure the Dark Lord would have enjoyed finding one of his lieutenants lying on my carpet, from a fight with an Auror. » Tonks blushed when she realized that he was hinting to her proverbial clumsiness._

_He was towering her and she blinked when he looked at her, «Why did you accept such a mission?» Tonks was going to retort that she did never questioned Dumbledore's missions, she was devoted to him, but she was drawn to the glistening eyes of a striped cat that were observing her from outside._

**_Watch it_**

_Tonks startled: a voice resonated in her mind and her hand snagged a glass that fell and broke in pieces._

He heard something before the glass broke up. He advanced to her with a surprising limber move and he asked coldly, «What did you say?» He saw Tonks shook her head a little too rapidly, «Nothing. I'm sorry, I've broken your…I'll take care of that.» She waved her wand slightly and the glass was intact again. Snape sat on the table before her and he plunged his eyes into hers. Their knees were almost touching and he could see with satisfaction that she was trying to protect her mind from him.

_Nothing to hide, really?_

Their faces were close and she looked repulsed when he said in a dull manner, «I've been your teacher, _Nymphadora_, and I had the first-hand look at how the tip of your nose moves slightly when you lie. I had tremendous occasions to watch for this, having taught you for seven years and having been lied to all those years. _What... did...you...say_?»

Snape saw her face contort as she said slowly, «I said, I'm here because of Dumbledore. Why do _you_ do all this?» He scrutinized her face, looking for confusion, accusation or anger – he could read her face well - and he flatly said, «The ultimate causes are bigger than us. This being said, it's none of your business.» She asked again, a pushy glimpse in her dark eyes, «Like to protect Harry's life?»

_Harry Potter_

The name lashed in his mind like a whip. Snape snarled, «That's _your_ job. There is a lot at stake, not only _Potter_. » He saw her break into a calculating smile: she looked suddenly really happy and he jolted again when he felt magic emanate from her. He captured something, a word,

**_NO_**

The Auror softly said, «You're talking about the Bearer's protection?»

He felt his anger rise and to his uttermost frustration, heat coloured his face. How could she know about this?

He grasped Tonks' shoulder, «What do you know about her?» Tonks jerked and tried to liberate from his tight grip, «You're hurting me. Let me go _now_.» He took away his hand, berating himself to have lost his cool. He said unctuously, looking at the tip of her nose, « So you know about the Bearer.»

Tonks massaged her shoulder, a warning darkening her eyes . «Of course, I know her. She is three or four years older than me. I think she worked briefly for the Magical Secret Services. But you must know that. Haven't you got her in your classes?»

Snape stared at Tonks. _Of course _he remembered her. A gifted Slytherin, one of his good students that he had tried to coax into Potions Higher Education. A Pureblood Bearer.

When she decided to try the Auror training instead, he was furious for days; he told her briskly that she was dishonouring her house, acting like a hot shot Gryffindor instead of a opportunistic moving Slytherin. It had been Bill Weasley's fault, he was sure of it. He had an extraordinary influence on her. Snape thought he should have separated them in class.

When Dumbledore told him this morning that she was considering joining the Order, Snape saw Dumbledore scrutinizing him. The Headmaster knew what her presence would bring back to him.

_My past, again and again, thrown to my face_

Snape noted again that Tonks was rubbing her nose, as she was trying to hide it as she dismissively said, « We'll need her soon, though. Hermione Granger has been hit by-» Snape did an annoyed gesture as he interrupted, «Yes, yes, I _know_ about Contamination spells. I've been brewing potions. Will she intervene soon?»

Snape watched Tonks carefully, as she was trying to keep control on the tip of her nose, «Nobody knows where she is.»

* * *

Outside, a cat jumped from the windowsill and slipped in a shrub. 

A Muggle would have been astonished to see a dignified woman, clad in a long tartan cloak and a bonnet, extirpate herself from the branches and leaves. She hurried to another shrub and took in her hand a rusty teakettle. In a swish, Professor McGonagall vanished.

_To be continued..._


	9. Secrets and Confessions

_The story is moving ahead, all aboard! _

_A few laughs – I wish-, fluff, drama and mystery are coming your way._

* * *

**Chapter 9 **

**Secrets and Confessions**

Holding her tightly against him, knowing each time he was downright irrational about the fear of never been able to kiss her again if he let her go,

_She could change her mind_

Harry tried to convince Ginny that they should keep their new – ahem – _liking _for each other from Ron's knowledge. «But he already knows I like you, » mildly protested Ginny, mellowing as Harry wrapped a red lock around his finger.

_I know he knows but he doesn't know **this**_

Harry had to admit he had no idea how to break **this** to Ron, who had lost his marbles countless times at the _idea_ of a boy fancying Ginny. There was also the nagging question surrounding Mr. and Mrs Weasley that hit Harry like a Bludger: could they think he was an ungrateful brat, snogging their only daughter in a broom cupboard in their house?

«I have no idea why I was sure you would react in such a way about Ron,» sighed Ginny. Harry saw the dimple in her cheek as she drew away from him and he realized she was going to tease him senseless now. At that precise moment, his Patronus would have blinded the United Kingdom's entire Muggle population.

Ginny drew out from her trousers' back pocket the Extendable Ear but also a small object which looked like a flattened ball, with a thumb-sizedindention in the middle. She continued, encircling him with her arms and slipping it in the back pocket of Harry's jeans, «It's a Buzz-o-Sphere.» She shoved her hand back in her pocket and Harry saw she had another one, «I have one too. If you want to see me, or talk to me, or…» she grinned, «just press here, and-» Ginny pressed her thumb against the indention and chuckled at Harry's expression when he jolted from the vibrations of the Buzz-o-Sphere.

«Believe it or not, there _are_ advantages of having been Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes unwilling guinea pig all those years,» shrugged Ginny, as Harry hastily retrieved his Buzz-o-Sphere and watched it in amazement. He pressed it and the one that Ginny was holding vibrated in silence, almost falling on the floor. «New product, top seller! Easy to enchant, easy to manufacture » Ginny announced with glee, «I'm getting a small percentage on it because I pitched the idea. Dad gave one to Mum to call him for lunch when he works in the garden. Oh, don't worry, Harry, the Buzz-o-Spheres work in pair, » she added, now laughing softly at Harry's apprehensive face, «Mum or Dad will not come running.»

Harry put the magical device back in his pocket and looked at her, grinning with a half mocking, half serious face, «What do you have else in your pockets, Ginny? You seem to have loads of good ideas this summer. You're quite resourceful, I'm truly impressed.» Ginny's smile faded and Harry thought for a second he might have said something wrong but then he saw her bright eyes and the gravity of her expression.

He lowered his head towards her as she whispered to his ear, «I'm glad you havefinally realized it.»

* * *

Time flew much faster at the Burrow than at 4, Privet Drive. 

Harry shared his time between the outdoors and the narrow broom cupboard. Outside, Harry and Ginny were fine-tuning their acting skills by relating to each other in a not-too-friendly-but-believable way as they played Quidditch with Ron and sometimes the twins, who were enjoying downtime from their invention frenzy. Hermione, on good days, joined them for half an hour or so, but only if they would agree not to use the Bludger. «The girl has a head over her shoulders, Ron, she doesn't want to risk her life again » muttered Fred while Ron's face menaced to ignite.

Hermione sat most of her time under the shadow of a huge tree, reading and cheering them, stubbornly refusing to look Harry in the eye whenever he asked her how she was doing. «Fine, Harry, _fine_,» she said, turning a page of her book. Harry felt somehow comforted to see her with a little more colour on her cheeks and her hair seemed to be recovering its original personality.

Playing Quidditch against Ginny was asking a lot from him. Harry had to berate himself to concentrate because not only was she blazing with her hair tailing her like a comet and her eyes glowing with the fierce desire to win him the Quaffle, but she was also an elegant player, sly and aggressive. As he was dripping with sweat underthe scorching sun, Harry soon understood that he may have snogged the girl but that did not buy him any mercy from the Chaser in her.

During those golden days of summer, Harry often found himself escaping behind a tree, pretending to catch his breath but in fact urgently pressing the Buzz-o-Sphere. Seeing Ginny slowly turn around with her cheeks flushed and a conniving smile on her lips was enough to feel victorious, even if she was trashing him on the Quidditch pit.

One particular afternoon in the privacy of the cupboard, Harry was trying to catch his breath after reciprocating a kiss to the birthday girl when Ginny whispered, « I think you're going to have to talk to him.»

Harry swallowed hard, «_Him_?»

Ginny gently adjusted his glasses on his nose and said in a nonchalant manner, « Our secret spot has been discovered. I heard Ron asking Mum to cast a Silencing spell on the wall of his room this morning. He said he was tired to hear my _snoring_. He looked at me with a really disgusted look, you know. He must have heard us.»

Harry leaned against the cupboard's wall. He had forgotten that it was contiguous to Ron's room.

_I wonder how Ron will try to murder me_

Harry stroke his forehead as he winced to Ginny, trying to hide his nervousness, « You're right. I'll think about something.»

* * *

Late that evening, lying on his bed, Harry was staring as the ceiling with dread. He had kept his glasses on, feeling less vulnerable even if the room was dark. Ron had looked sullen today; during diner, Harry felt Ron's eyes on his nose a couple of times and it made him nervous. The bedroom was briefly brightened by the candlelight and Ron entered. 

While Ron was swearing in a low voice as he hit his toes on something, Harry considered that his friend was quite tempestuous if not sometimes Hippogriff-like stubborn, but he had a frightening warlike attitude when somebody had the foolishness to fancy his sister…or Hermione, for that matter. But Harry did not have the embarrassment to say the first word as he heard Ron utter in a dull, non-Ron voice, «Harry? Harry, you're sleeping?»

«Mmmm, no, » Harry carefully answered. Ron coughed again and Harry could hear the ruffling bed sheets as he continued, «I…I don't now how to say this, but – I learned about you fancying my sister. In fact, I _heard_ about you fancying my sister.» Harry's face was red and he was glad the room was dark.

Ron's voice rose again, somewhere between perplexity and disgust, «I asked Mum to spell the wall this morning but she didn't want to. Harry…Please keep in mind that she's my _sister._ Kiss her if you _have_ too, but try to…try to loose the little…_wet_ sounds. Thinking of it is er-» Harry heard Ron turn in his bed, while his voice sank lower, «Mate, I don't want to become hooked on Amnesia Potions, you see? Keep it in the cupboard.» Harry felt a tremendous weight off his chest; he repressed a nervous laugh and bit his lower lip, «No problem, Ron. I'll try to be less -» «Please, shut up, I really don't want to hear about this,» growled Ron in the dark and Harry lifted a hand in a peace offering.

Silence fell in the room for a moment and Ron spoke again, his voice being reproachful, «Why didn't you tell me?» Harry thought about it and answered with honesty, «You would have killed me.» Not clearing that option out, Ron shot back, «Since when did you like her?» Harry chuckled, «Is this an inquiry, Ron? I thought you did not want details.» As Ron was keeping silence, Harry felt impish and pushing his luck but he spurted out, «Did you tell Hermione?» Ron muttered, his head in the pillow, «What – What are you talking about?» Harry whispered back, «That you care for her?»

Harry did not receive an answer to this, Ron faking an instant comatose slumber. Harry turned on his belly so he could laugh silently in his pillow and the back of his head was smashed by Ron's pillow, followed by a clear «Bloody prat. You're lucky to be my friend.»

* * *

Last week before going back to Hogwarts, Harry saw the Burrow transform into a beehive that was buzzing with arrivals and departures. Lupin brought in a faded box of personal belongings and was eluding Harry in a way that was starting to annoy him greatly. Fred and George left the family nest to take possession of their new business premises, accompanied by the tears of their mother and the glowing pride of their father. Bill was in and out the Burrow, less tired than usual but a frown creasing his forehead; Ron slipped to Harry's ear, «Less snogging with Fleur, I guess.» 

Tonks was a frequent visitor: Harry noted she did not come anymore for diner and she looked ill at ease with Arthur Weasley, whose normally gentle face seemed to close shut each time he saw her. She always waved the teens with a smile, but her bloodshot eyes took Harry aback. She looked preoccupied and she spoke often with Mrs Weasley and Lupin, her arms crossed. Their eyes always darted at some point towards Hermione.

To Harry's increasing preoccupation, Hermione was still pretending she was fine, even if she was rail thin. She had admitted to Harry that the potions were slow to act, but she swore she felt them working. Adults seem to be reading an awful lot these days and Harry had the feeling that somewhat, something was going wrong.

Harry and Ron going upstairs caught Lupin and Tonks talking between the floors, speaking in a low but urgent tone. Lupin had his hands on her shoulders while he rasped, «This is a serious stand, Tonks. You're playing with fire, here.» Tonks answered, pointing her chin to him, «Deal with it Remus. It's my job.» When they saw the boys, they separated with a fake smile but Harry was sure he saw Tonks wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

Three nights before going back to Hogwarts, Harry went to the kitchen for a glass of water. This late at night, the silence was unusual and deep for a house like the Burrow, which usually pulsated with life. On a corner of the massive wood table, Harry saw books, edified in four massive piles. Mrs Weasley had asked Lupin to retrieve the school necessities this year, invoking the lack of availability of members from the Order, which did not make any sense to Harry, having seen Bill, Mr Weasley, Moody and Tonks that sole day.

The books indicated to Harry that Lupin was back, and here he was, _finally_, alone in the kitchen. He was reading «The Daily Prophet» by the candlelight, absent-mindedly holding his spoon over his teacup. Harry saw his pallid face and dark circles under his eyes.

Lupin lifted his head, «Harry, oh my…It's late. I didn't think I'd see you tonight. How are you?» Harry wanted to say that he felt let down, but he swallowed what he knew were hurtful words and sat in front of the man, clutching his glass of water. «I'm good. How are _you_?» Lupin forced a smile, « As you can see.»

They stared in silence at each other and Harry's heart was beating forcefully: facing Lupin alone had the effect of a cold shower after this last month, where he had felt so alive, where he had thought more peacefully about Sirius even if he was still angry and sad.

Harry was torn between screaming his frustration towards his father's friend, his godfather's friend, a man who owed him stories, bits and pieces that could keep Sirius alive, or staying silent. There was so much about Sirius he wanted to know but now, when he had the occasion, he felt empty and barehanded.

Harry muttered, «I miss him.»

Lupin's face saddened. He laid the spoon down on the table. The candlelight wavered shadows in his face and he dropped his gaze. « I know. Me too, Harry. We lost a huge piece of our lives that night.» Harry nodded.

_being ripped off_ , _being stolen from_

He knew the feeling.

Lupin continued, his hand pushing back the teacup,« It is quite strange, really. Sometimes,I havethe feeling that he is close to me. I never had this impression in the thirteen years he has been in Azkaban, when he was alive. He's dead but I feel him more alive that ever.» Harry nodded again and said quietly, «I know: at dinner sometimes I wait for him to say something stupid.» Lupin spurted a strangled chuckle, «I know, I know.»

Lupin put his elbows on the table and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Harry sipped water, his eyes on the newspaper.

Lupin suddenly said, his voice tensing up, «I don't know if you will understand this, Harry, but I always thought I would be the first to die…because of lycanthropy. But James is dead, and Sirius is dead and…» Harry blurted out, his voice full with bitterness, « And Wormtail died the day he sold my parents to Voldemort. You're the last one.»

Lupin bowed his head again and Harry rubbed with a trembling finger a scratch on the table, his throat dry.

While trying to hold back his tears, his mind wandered to Hermione and a sudden question shot through his mind. He asked, «Does the Order still exists?» Lupin raised his head with a perplex look on his face, «Of course. Why the question?»

Harry pondered for a while and he said, «We're at the Burrow, not at Grimmauld Place. Plus, I haven't seen a meeting in the last month.» Before drinking a sip of tea, Lupin retorted, «That's what you think.» But Harry felt tired of the half-truths and allusions. He insisted, «I understood that the Order had to meet about Hermione' s condition, the day she told you her dream. I saw Bill write about it, » he added hastily when Lupin's eyebrows arched. «Tonks talked about this Auror colleague and everybody went silent. Hermione is not well at all. What is the Order waiting for?»

Harry was startled to hear his voice creaking a bit. Talking about Hermione in the same conversation that began with Sirius had made him strongly uncomfortable and angry.

Lupin loudly said, startling Harry on his chair, « Well, Harry, I'm not sure you should know about this.» Harry was stunned for a second but he could not stop himself from scowling, «WHAT?»

Lupin leaned towards him over the table while doing a calming gesture with his hand. «That was for Molly, if she's listening. You _know_ what I think, » he whispered with resentment. Harry leaned forward and he watched Lupin scratching his chin with growing impatience.

Lupin's voice was hoarse but soft and Harry was almost green eye to brown eye with him when the Marauder said, «We are welcoming new members. Some older members are _reacting_ to those decisions.» Harry gritted his teeth, «Let me guess. Snape.»

Lupin laughed without amusement, «You're your father's son all right. No, Harry. _Arthur_ is not happy.» Harry choked on his saliva, «Mr Weasley? Is this…is this why he is angry at Tonks? What's going on?» Lupin nodded carefully but Harry saw that he looked like he wished he had not spoke of this.

«Harry...We're in a war and sometimes we disagree. It's not the first time and I guarantee you it won't be the last. Sometimes, we have to fight more for our ideas, that all. Arthur is a very courageous man, and his older son is really active in the Order and I've heard that - » Lupin tilted his head to the left as he hesitated, «Well, you're fond of Ginny…His youngest kids are not members of the Order but they know all about it and…» « You mean, they know me,» stated bitterly Harry, slightly blushing as he slowly realized that the cupboard was not needed for hiding anymore.

_I knew this was coming. They regret knowing me_

Lupin nodded with insistence, «This has nothing to do with you, Harry. It has all to do with Arthur and his desire to protect everyone.» Harry pondered on this and decided to push further, « What about the Auror Tonks was talking about? How did Bill call her? A Bearer?»

Harry was not surprise at the sight of Lupin pushing himself back from him. Red went to his face as he squirmed, «This Auror…Oh Harry, you'll know soon enough. She's a new recruit. She graduated from Hogwarts the same year as Bill and Tonks know hera bit.She doesn't have a lot of political weight but she was attached to the Magical Secret Services. It's quite a catch, actually.»

Lupin drank a sip of his now cold tea as Harry was maintaining his gaze on him. Lupin clutched the teacup, «She's a potent witch, a few years of experience in covert operations and not even thirty yet. Working for the Magical Secret Services is certainly not for the faint of heart. Ever heard about the Minaguash Rebellion?» Harry nodded impatiently, «No, I haven't. But why Mr Weasley is opposing to her?» Lupin raised a finger, «I did not say Arthur was opposing, Harry. The thing is, Harry, Bearers have _reputations_.»

That did not make sense for Harry: discrimination, coming from usually mild-mannered Mr Weasley! Harry wanted to know more but a frightful scream troubled the calm silence that enfolded the Burrow, a scream that froze Harry on the spot and made his hair stand on his head.

Then, he heard another one. And another one.

He could hear, on the second floor, voices and footsteps hurrying to the girls' bedroom. Harry saw Lupin's eyes feverishly dart to the ceiling and he felt uneasy when he saw a flicker of fear in them as the tired-looking man whispered in a dreadful tone, «Hermione.»


	10. The Beauty of a Poisonous Flower

_Thanks so much for reading!_

_Drama, father and son head butting, suggested obscenities and a wordless professor are coming your way._

**Chapter 10**

**The beauty of a poisonous flower**

The silence fell again, replaced by muffled voices on the second floor.

But that voice, that terrified voice had been Hermione's, Harry was sure of it and a lump formed in his throat. The first shock quickly passed; he jumped to his feet, spilling water as Lupin got up too, the legs of their chairs screeching on the floor. Expecting Lupin to follow him upstairs, Harry was surprised to see, when he looked over his shoulder, that the man was rushing towards the fireplace.

Harry asked with eagerness, «Are you going to get a Healer? Do you want me to tell them?», but Lupin shook his head, his face showing discomfort and resignation. Lupin raised a hand and took a fistful of Floo Powder that bleeded between his clasped fingers. Harry saw him whisper a few words and green flames engulfed him, illuminating the entire kitchen. Harry ran up the stairs, almost falling down in his haste.

The corridor was dark but a quaking light was coming out the girls' room, drawing an imperfect triangle on the floor. In the flickering light that bathed the cheery, flowery wallpaper of Ginny's room, Harry saw the worried Weasleys trying to do something to help.

Mrs Weasley was wringing a cloth over a basin she must have conjured, the water dripping on the floor as she got to her knees to dab Hermione's sweaty forehead while whispering, «Sweetheart, come back to us, _now_. Please honey, wake up.» Bill was feverishly reading a small leather-covered book, turning the pages back and forth, mumbling under his breath and rolling his wand between the fingers of his right hand. Mr Weasley turned to Harry when he came in: Harry was scared by the hard look he had on his face. Ron was standing beside the bed, his mouth open in fear, clutching his hands. Ginny was on her knees, holding Hermione's hand and whispering so softly Harry could not hear what she was saying.

For a while, Harry stood there, his mind blank, not knowing what to do to help; he was submerged by the terrible feeling that the most likely person to know the right resources and explanations about what was going on, was on this bed, feeble and unconscious. For a brief moment, nobody moved and everybody watched Hermione's face.

Harry felt that time had stopped but then Hermione's hands started to jerk: soon, her entire body quivered.

«She's having spasms, Arthur. We _have_ to do something,» panted Mrs Weasley, as she was trying to immobilize her. Ginny climbed up the bed and she almost wrestled with her, trying to take her in her arms. Hermione's eyes shot open, but Harry's quick relief transformed into sheer horror: Hermione's big brown eyes were somewhat vacant and she was clearly not seeing what was happening around her.

_She's stuck in her dream_

Ginny was speaking louder now, her panic rising in her voice. "Hermione, please, please, _please_…" Harry could see her red hair flowing on her back and his heart broke when a sob shook Ginny's voice as she tried to immobilize her, "_Please_, Hermione, wake up…It's me…Ginny, your friend…you're dreaming… It's only a dream…"

Ginny was trying to hold Hermione's shoulders on the mattress, but Harry was amazed by the strength Hermione still had in her: she had been looking frail in the last few days but Ginny was clearly not having the upper hand. Harry approached Ron and touched hesitantly his elbow: Ron turned to him and he looked as he was awaking from a dream. «What can we do?» urgently said Harry to his friend.

Ron, without speaking, took two steps towards Hermione's bedside. Harry looked at Ron reaching for his sister: he knew his friend was strong but to see him grab her by the waist and lifting her like she was a featherweight broomstick was definitely discovering another side to bumbling, clumsy Ron. He dropped her off with gentleness and his blue eyes crossed Harry's.

Quickly understanding where Ron was going with this, Harry jumped on the bed and uneasily sat on Hermione's ankles. Bill moved in his back while Harry firmly grabbed her quaking legs, trying to stroke them at the same time in what he thought a reassuring gesture.

Bill blurted, «I - I found it. Try to immobilize her. I have found an spell that could knock her out for a while.» Mrs Weasley cried out, «Are you sure, Bill? How about the interactions with the potions she took?» Harry saw Bill long hair going from one shoulder to another when he dropped without ceremony the book on the floor, brandishing his wand and gently pushing away his mother.

Ron moved swiftly to dodge Hermione's disorganized jerks and he managed to grip her wrists. Ron pressed them over her head, arching over her, his knee against the mattress. Harry could not see Ron's face but he could hear his voice, a low guttural plea that made his hair rise on his arms, «Hermione...»

Bill shouted, «Stop moving, you guys!» He pointed his wand towards Hermione and with a sharp movement of his wrist, he shouted again, «_Serenitas_!»

A golden blur surrounded Hermione for a split second and Harry felt under him Hermione's legs turning limp. A quick glance to her face churned Harry's stomach: she looked asleep but her face still showed traces of her suffering. Her eyelids were fluttering and tears slipped on her cheeks.

Harry took a deep breath in and slowly went down the bed, reluctantly breaking contact with Hermione as he did not want to leave her alone.

Ginny moved to him and she circled him with her arms, her face to his back, holding him tightly against her. Harry stroked her warm hand: Ginny was still shaking from the effort she invested. She muttered, her lips against his shoulder blade, «Do you think she's going to be okay?» Harry looked at her supplicating face over his shoulder and he frowned, shaking his head slightly.

_I'm afraid of what I'm thinking_

Bill went around the bed and gently pulled back Ron, who was still tightly holding Hermione's wrists with his hands. Bill said with a soft voice, « Let her go, mate. She's out of her dream now.» Ron mechanically obeyed and stood up, his eyes not leaving Hermione's face. Harry could see his shoulders rise up rapidly as he was breathing hard.

Bill shook his head; his troubled eyes crossed Harry's.

_Seeing strong people being afraid is awfully disturbing_

Bill looked intently at his still standing father and crossed his arms, his face frozen in a stern expression. «This is a lot of magic for a teenage witch, Dad. This a _lot_ of magic for any wizard, _period_. She had potions today, plus this spell…We need to Floo in her parents and then, they have a decision to make. I'm confident she'll be calm for one or two hours, but after…We'll have to do something more.»

Arthur Weasley bit his lips and nodded. He slowly said, looking at his feet, «I talked to her parents yesterday and they told me to bring her to St.Mungo's if necessary. That's what we will do. I'll go fetch them.» From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Molly Weasley rise up to her feet and Ginny shivered against him as her mother spoke in a harsh tone, «Did you tell them Healers will have to keep their daughter sedated for days, if not _weeks_, before she could get access to a proper Dark Magic Healer Witch?»

Mr Weasley looked her in the eye and he clenched his jaw, «Molly, we will not go over this again. There is no way we are letting a Bearer in the house.»

Harry felt the uneasiness of this situation: he hated fights, he hated to see Hermione and Ron go at each other's throat but seeing two usually loving parents snarling and fighting for something so important made him suddenly wish he could witness again the ridiculous arguments conducted by his two friends instead of this one.

Bill opened his mouth, but Mr Weasley spoke before he did, «I know you're on your mother's side on this, Bill. Don't argue with me, this girl needs help. _Medical_ help. This is the proper procedure.»

Red went to Bill's face and he snapped back, « I'm not _Percy_, Dad. _Procedures_ won't work for me. I'm keeping my ground on this. I know way more Dark Magic than you can imagine. Yes, I agree, Hermione needs help. But we have access to someone who could do a difference really quickly.» Bill took a step towards his father as he spoke with a little more gentleness, « I _know_ what I'm suggesting here. But she was a friend. I know her. There was a lot of rubbish written on Bearers, Dad. We have nothing to fear from her.»

Harry felt Ginny move to his side, her eyes quickly going from his brother to his father. They held hands silently, witnessing with a shared apprehension the sparks that were almost flying in the air as the two men looked at each other with intensity. Arthur slipped under his breath, «You _think_ you know her. How many years has it been, Bill? I have two words for you, son: _Minaguash_ _Rebellion_.»

_That thing again_

Harry saw Bill's usually open and handsome face turn stormy and Mrs Weasley said weakly, stroking Hermione's hair, «I gave her the three potions tonight, as Severus suggested. Why won't they work?» Bill jolted and his earring oscillated over his shoulder. He turned towards her, «All _three_ potions! But that's _way_ too much, Mum!»

A sharp, menacing voice came from the threshold of the room, making everybody startle, « I'm afraid my memory is betraying me. I don't _recall_ any particular ability in brewing SoulResting potions from you, Bill. At least, your grades did not give that away.»

Severus Snape was standing in the quivering light, enfolded in a long dusty black cloak, a displeased expression creasing his features. He was holding a leather travel bag. Over his shoulder, Harry could see Lupin trying to catch his breath while dusting his shoulders. A heavy silence welcomed them.

Harry could not believe it. He bit his tongue while he refrained a long list of obscenities that would have made Ron proud.

_How could Lupin do this? _

_From all the people he could have brought back, he had to bring in Snape._

Anger exploded in him and Harry decided he would not even waste his energy containing it. He gripped Ginny's hand tighter and tensed up, trying to convey in his expression his disgust and frustration.

Molly Weasley walked towards Snape, her hands raised to him in a welcoming gesture. Harry felt more than he saw Snape's slight cringe. « Severus, am I glad to see you…I did everything you wrote me to do. I tripled the dose as you suggested. She's not well at all.» Snape raised his eyebrows and his condescending voice was so unctuous that it made Harry shake in frustration.

_Don't talk to her like that, she's doing her best_

«Molly, I am _certain_ that you did all whatever is in _your_ _power _to help Miss Granger. Lupin told me she was screaming again in her sleep. Maybe I could add something, for the moment, before you floo her to St.Mungo's. Let me get a look at her.» Snape walked to the bed and his eyes were hostile as he crossed Harry's.

Arthur Weasley was staring at Lupin, clearly unhappy. Lupin shook his head in denial and said in whisper, loud enough for Harry to hear it, « I'm sorry. Say what you want, Arthur, this girl is sick. Face it, St. Mungo's is not the only option. Sometimes you just have to confront darkness with darkness. Severus may be able to reduce her suffering while we wait for the-» But Mr Weasley was already asking Snape, «Severus, what _can_ you do about this?»

Snape dropped off the bag on the night table with what seemed to Harry an infuriating slowness.

_The rotten bastard_

_He's enjoying the power it's giving him_

Snape looked at Mr Weasley and a wry smile tensed his lips as he said, « May I have more light, Molly? I'll do what I _can_, Arthur. I'm not a Healer. But it's not going quite well, I have to say. Have you considered asking Professor Dumbledore for the Bearer? » Harry's palms became sweaty when he saw Mr Weasley turn pale.

The Potion Master kneeled to Hermione's bedside and he drew his hand to her forehead. A strong hand spotted with freckles grabbed his bony wrist while Mrs Weasley hollered, «RON! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!»

Harry could not believe his eyes when Ron let go off Snape quickly as the man massaged furiously his wrist. Ron muttered, in a low growl, «Don't hurt her.»

Snape was about to snarl something at him but Harry felt a whiff of triumph expanding in his chest when his professor seemed to remember that _parents_ were there. The man snapped back, his dark eyes burning Ron's face, «This is perfectly unacceptable. I came out of my way, almost exposing myself to help your… _friend_. Let me work.»

Mrs Weasley insisted, «RON! Apologise to Professor Snape right NOW!» Harry tried to send telepathically his sympathy to Ron while the sullen teen said in a unconvincing manner, «I'm sorry, Professor.»

Snape laid his hand again on Hermione's forehead and he looked at Mrs Weasley with disapproval. His fingers gingerly palpated her neck. Harry tried to restrain himself from gagging and was relieved Hermione would hopefully not remember anything from this.

Joining his hands while looking down on the tear-streaked cheeks, Snape scornfully asked Mrs Weasley, «Where did she received the hex?»

Harry felt Ginny move while she answered Snape with a decided voice before her mother could speak, «She told me it was here.» Ginny showed her own stomach, a few inches to the north of her bellybutton.

Snape lifted his head; his eyes grazed Ron's face and he bitterly asked Mrs Weasley, «Could you expose it, so I can examine it?»

Ginny held Ron's wrist as he looked like he would chew Snape's head off if he dared to touch Hermione again. Mrs Weasley obliged; pushing away the sweat-soaked bed sheet, she uncovered Hermione's stomach, folding a bit of the top of her pyjamas. Her hands trembled when she gasped, «Oh, dear…»

Harry, Ron and Ginny looked down and they could not contain a cry at what they saw. Lupin, Bill and Mr Weasley looked downright petrified and Harry noted without surprise that Snape's face was expressionless.

A Snitch-sized purple mark veined with black adorned Hermione's stomach.

Harry remembered a picture Neville Longbottom had showed him one day in Herbology, a picture of a poisonous flower, deadly and beautiful at the same time. Harry blinked: was it moving? He forced himself to keep his eyes open and he saw the delicate petals of the mark bloom and undulate, imperceptibly swishing on Hermione's pale skin.

Lupin voice was almost blank when he asked, «What is this? Severus, have you ever seen anything like it? It's a _Contamino_, isn't it?» Snape's lips were tightly shut and his dark eyes were downcast on the magical wound.

Harry believed he hated Severus Snape with his entire heart, body and soul but seeing him without words was way scarier than when he snarled insults or sarcasms.

Snape licked his cracked lips and Harry nervously scratched his chin: the Potion Master's voice was so dull it did not even seem like his own. «This mark…Does somebody know since when shedeveloped it?» Nobody had the chance to answer him: a thunderous noise announced that somebody was Apparating in the house.

Arthur, Bill, Snape and Lupin quickly drew their wand but soon everybody could hear a stumble and a feminine voice whispering: «Ouch! Arthur, Molly, I _swear_, my eyes are closed. I hope I'm not disturbing _anything_…Anyway, I know this is really rude. I'm _so_ sorry to Apparate in your bedroom at this hour but I've got to talk to -»

Lupin called out, holding his head out of the room, «Tonks, we're here.» Harry heard Tonks light footsteps running towards the room and she entered, her hood hiding a short bob of violet hair. She looked surprised to see them all up at this hour and Harry thought that for a second, her face showed discomfort when she saw Snape. She quickly regained her composure, «What's going on?»

She looked over Harry's shoulder and he smelled a faint odour of liquorice emanating from her as her hand touched her mouth when she saw the mark on Hermione's limp body. Arthur Weasley asked aggressively, «What are you doing here, at this hour?»

«Arthur-» slowly started to say Lupin, looking devastated.

Tonks gulped and rummaged in the inner pocket of her robes. Harry felt sad for her: she looked immensely tired and her eyes were brimmed with red. Tonks held out a neatly creased parchment towards Mr Weasley, «It's from Professor Dumbledore.»

Mr Weasley grabbed the missive and opened it with precise and sharp moves. Harry grew impatient as he saw him read it in silence, his face closing as his eyes were running on the parchment.

Tonks's purple hair was turning red at the ends: impatience was tensing her delicate features. She crossed her arms with defiance as she looked up to Mr Weasley, «Arthur, I know you are not pleased with this, but we have to do _something_. Dumbledore has arranged everything. Let me go get her.»

Harry saw Arthur Weasley exchanging glances with his wife, who was silently approving. He then looked at Harry for what seemed to him a long time, forcing him to shift his weight from one foot to the other.

_Why, Mr Weasley? Why are you so hesitant? What could be more important than Hermione's health right now?_

Harry was taken aback when he saw Mr Weasley's overwhelming emotion when he looked at Ginny, who was still holding Harry's hand in hers, her face tired from the lack of sleep but her expectant and confident eyes firmly fixed at her father. Almost making his glasses fall off his long nose, Mr Weasley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and he soundly coughed when he could not look his eldest son in the eye.

Finally, Mr Weasley looked at Ron with pained eyes. The red-hair teen had turned his back to them and had crouched to Hermione's bedside. Harry did not see anything in Ron's expression or attitude that could make him think his friend might have listened to what had been debated in the last minutes.

Harry pressed Ginny's hand harder when he saw that Ron was stroking with the pulp of his right index a tiny wisp of Hermione's hair that was crowning her head on the pillow, in an almost invisible caress.

Harry felt a powerful wave of relief when Mr Weasley spoke in choked voice, his face contorted with a sullen resolution, still looking at Ron, «I'll follow Dumbledore's orders. Bring the Bearer here. » Tonks breathed hard and whispered, furiously shaking her head, «Good Merlin…at last. You won't regret it, Arthur, I promise.» She closed her eyes and in a blasting sound, she Disapparated.

Harry would not have bet on it, but during Tonks' tumultuous departure he thought he heard Snape repeat in a serious, urgent voice, «At last.»

Hmmmm. To be consistent with my reputation of being a sadistic fanfictioner, I'll just say this, « To be continued.»


	11. A Metamorphmagus and a Bearer in a Dark

_Of course, I hope you understood that I am not sadistic with the characters, but with the readers - what a relief ; )_

_A short chapter, from Tonks' point of view. I hope you will like it._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**A Metamorphmagus and a Bearer in a Dark Alley**

Tonks successively Apparated from a location to another, following a route carefully planned a few days before, as she was expecting Dumbledore to give his final approval. Tonks hoped she was not getting noticed on her way; she had chosen remote and dark settings and, as an extra precaution, she slightly changed her appearance before each departure. Nymphadora Tonks adhered with all her heart to Alastor Moody's paranoid philosophy, even if she teased him relentlessly about it.

She finally Apparated to her last destination, in a loud banging sound that could have been confused for a Muggle car having muffler problems. She found herself in a deserted dark alley, littered with slimy and broken unwanted objects.

_Muggle-borns can be so disgusting_

Tonks somewhat tripped on a damp cardboard box: she angrily kicked it away with the tip of her leather boot. She squatted behind a huge garbage bin that was overflowing with foul smelling rubbish.

The young Auror pulled her hood over on her now chestnut hair and she lowered her chin against her chest to hide her features. The tip of her fingers searched for her wand under her cloak and she slid her hand along it. The supple warm wood comforted her and Tonks tried to slow down her loudly beating heart by taking deep breaths, wincing at the same time from the awful smell that was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

_Inhale - One broomstick – exhale_

_Inhale – Two broomsticks – exhale_

_Calm down, missy_

She closed her mind to be sure she would be alone with her thoughts.

_Constant, ever-constant bloody vigilance_

Even if she was nervous tonight, Tonks believed she was getting quite handy at those assignments: she had been doing little missions for Dumbledore in the last few weeks, often alone, without the knowledge of all the Order of the Phoenix' members and she now felt she had three lives, neatly separated in paths that sometimes crossed on her day job.

She was obviously an Auror, plus an official member of the Order of the Phoenix but she was beginning to think she was now a whole covert local branch of the Order to herself, digging some dirt and playing occasionally the wannabe bodyguard of a contemptuous Potions Master. She was intrigued by the reason why Dumbledore did not want to publicize any of this, but she understood that in war, some things are better not said, even to partners in crime.

Tonight had definitely another flavour. She felt the chill of the night through the heavy fabric of her cloak and her teeth started to chatter an impromptu cha-cha.

In the last weeks, as she was fidgeting in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore had asked her to be patient. Without blinking, Tonks had blurted that there could be a world of differences between patience and _patience_. The old wizard had laughed giddily, as if she had told him a very witty pun. But Tonks knew enough Dumbledore to see his preoccupation concerning Hermione Granger's condition. This is why the Headmaster gave him the parchment for Arthur Weasley earlier tonight with a rather grave expression. Nevertheless, he had winked at her and she could hear a little mischief in his voice as he told her, «Here you go, Nymphadora. Your _patience_ is being rewarded tonight.»

A drizzle started to fall on the chilled Auror.

_Wotcher, runny nose and head cold _

_Lovely atmosphere for a pick-up_

She readjusted slightly her cloak and pointed her wand to herself as she muttered, «_Impervius!»_ Tonks shifted, still sitting on her heels, trying to adjust herself into a more comfortable position. The lamppost that was on the other side of the street was diffusing a soft yellow light in a distant low buzzing sound; she mellowed a bit.

Tonks' eyes glanced at the entrance of the alley and she remembered she had broken in the last few months _all_ the confidentiality rules that protected the privacy of the employees of the Ministry of Magic, all this in order to know more about the Auror she was waiting for tonight.

Should the Ministry discover that one of its youngest Aurors had defied _SuperSilencium_ spells to read private files, she was cooked. She silently snickered, trying to laugh away her jitters.

_Not cooked, roasted; a chick served with all the trimmings_

Of course, it would add to the scandal if the Ministry found out that she was a member of a subversive organization and she was hijacking information from the Ministry for its operations. Tonks chew the inside of her lower lip when she thought bitterly that a stay in Azkaban was _not_ in her five-year career planning.

She concentrated on the light that bathed the entry of the alley.

Dumbledore had promised his protection on this: but Tonks knew she was only one step from the Wizengamot if she ever got discovered. Tonks admitted to herself she was good at what she was doing: she had some very early training for this.

Her Mum used to firmly send her to her room if she got caught at scheming some mischievous plan. «So you want to do it bad, missy? Do it right or don't get caught at doing bad,» used to say Andromeda Tonks between her gritted teeth, lightly spanking her daughter on her way to her bedroom.

Merlin as her witness, Tonks had learned how to not get caught the hard way: against her insighful, out-of the-box thinker of a mother.

As Tonks looked anxiously at her watch, Snape's bitter face came to her mind. He asked her a question that really went under her skin the night when she witnessed the Unbreakable Vow Mess.

_«Why did you accept such a mission?»_

This had startled her. She disliked the man – well, she did not hate him like Sirius did, in a feverish, extremist-blind kind of way - she just disliked him, but she had to give him credit about his keen knowledge of the shadows of human nature. Snape always seemed to know exactly what buttons to push in order to get reactions from others.

A drop of water got caught in her eyelids and she rubbed it away.

_Why do I accept those missions?_

She was not a PsychoCounselWitch like her friend Mystic, but she knew enough about psychology to recognize that her Mum had brought her up in a way that made her firmly believe that one does not let the dark wizards win.

_I'm a daughter of a Black. My aunts are married with Death Eaters. Bella's one too. Narcissa is a fearful little princess. I know it now._

And she could have turn astray, she just knew it. It was all in her. But she believed her mother had done a fine job raising a rebellious Metamorphmagus daughter with good lying skills that proved thoroughly useful to the Order of the Phoenix, despite whatever Snape thought about them.

There were also much more complicated reasons that she could not grasp completely. Her fondness for Dumbledore, the way she did not want people like her father getting bullied with that pureblood rubbish, and since last year, _of course_ Harry and his tragic destiny, loosing his parents so young and being so courageous about it.

_Sirius too, I guess…I miss his passion and his drive. _

Remus Lupin's face lingered a bit in her mind, as the rain was pouring now harder on her.

She was secretly a little afraid of him: sometimes she felt like he was reading in her face like an open book. She did not want him to know to what lengths she had to go sometimes, like Obliviating colleagues to get passed them.Arthur Weasley was once an unwilling witness to this and even if he knew it was for Order's business, he had not been his warm self with her since then. His bellicose attitude towards her hurt her beyond belief.

Tonks' eyes moved quickly as she heard a small rattling sound near her. She held her breath while a beer can rolled towards her, pushed by the wind that was picking up.

_But Remus knows about this, I am sure of it._

He was always throwing advice at her that clearly meant, «Watch it, girl._»_. Remus was a patronizing fool, stubborn and borderline obsessive with details, but his overt confidence in her meant a huge deal for Tonks.

_I don't want to loose his trust, it's too precious_

Tonks checked her watch again. Fabiola Luz should be there in a few minutes.

_Where is she?_

Tonks remembered in a blur, from her days in Hogwarts, a pretty but plain girl with very pale blue eyes, a few years older than she was. Tonks could replay in her mind the way students sniggered at her because she wore leather gloves even when she was not playing Quidditch and because she was marked by three small scars near her right eye. Luz was _definitely_ not known for her public-speaking abilities. Tonks never saw Luz engrossed in a conversation but she was kind enough for a Slytherin: Hogwarts' stud Bill Weasley - Tonks sighed - was _always_ around her, for a reason that none of the better-looking girls could understand.

Tonks met her in her first year when Luz tutored her in Potions. The Slytherin girl had been nice and agreeable. Their rapports were tinted with respect, even if Tonks had been in a war opposing Slytherins more that once.

Tonks had met her again when she started her Auror training: surprisingly, Luz gave a lecture on Dark Magic Spells as she was already working as an Auror for the Magical Secret Services. Her Bearer capacities had blossomed and Tonks had been quite impressed by the magical energy that emanated from her. The shy girl had turned into a dangerous looking woman.

Since then, Tonks had heard lots of hearsays about Luz, about her _active_ part in repressing the Minaguash Rebellion that had taken place a few years ago. The Magical Secret Services had kept undercover the Rebellion with a lot of energy.

_Not to say with numerous Avada Kedavras_

When Tonks illegally read her file, she could not stifle her disappointment. The file she took so much care to open did not contain much more that she already knew. Auror Fabiola Luz was one of the six registered Bearers in the United Kingdom. Although Tonks had learned in the file that Luz had been severely injured while on a mission in Azkaban, the content of the mission had been classified under a spell that she worked her brains out to evade, without much success.

Tonks jolted when she heard a light footstep on the sidewalk, a few feet away from her hideaway. She turned her head slightly to get a better look at the alley. A medium height hooded woman was standing still in the rain: after a small hesitation, she slowly walked towards Tonks' hideout. The young Auror could see a gloved hand holding a wand, pointing it down. This witch was ready to defend herself by any means, if necessary.

As the woman was a few feet away from her, Tonks grasped her wand and she muttered in a low voice, «Phoenix.» The woman stopped walking as soon as Tonks' voice reverberated between the buildings. Tonks tried to see her face, wishing to identify her before she exposed herself.

The woman answered back in a raspy and cracked voice, as she had screamed too much, «Manticore.»

Tonks straightened up slowly and she saw the woman raise her wand against her. The young woman lifted a hand in a clear gesture of peace, «I'm Tonks.» She walked up to her and the hooded woman let her wand drop to her side.

To her uttermost embarrassment, Tonks could not hide her surprise when she saw the woman's face under the hood. She had not seen her, for what? Four, five years?

Tonks could read on Fabiola Luz' wan features the perilous nature of the missions that were given to her.

A long whitish scar went from her left nostril to her lips, crossing them and giving her a rather cruel expression. Small scars on her forehead and on her cheeks made her look older than she was. Tonks saw, with growing horror, that the three scars she remembered on her in Hogwarts were small crescent shaped scars.

_Bet she knows all about Contamination spells_

Even if it was still pouring, Luz pushed back her hood and Tonks could see her damp curly hair, attached in a low ponytail. Light caught in her hair and Tonks saw herself stared at by her colleague. She felt strangely lightheaded, when Luz almost colorless eyes scrutinized her features. Involuntarily, Tonks Metamorphosed her hair purple.

«Nymphadora… It's been quite a while,» said Luz, looking her in the eye without a blink. Tonks coughed and shakily said, «Hi, Fabiola. You look…» Luz smiled without amusement, «I know. The career has not been good on the looks.»

Tonks stammered, savagely blushing, «I'm- Bloody hell, I'm sorry. I'm a little caught off guard. I did not expect you to be -» Luz pulled back her hood on her head and her broken voice was sharp but not unkind, «_What_ were you expecting? Working for the Magical Secret Services is to renounce all vanity. I've got all my limbs and this, you have to admit, is quite a feat for a Secret Auror.» Tonks gave a trembling hint of a smile and she asked with a firmer voice, «You know why you're here?»

The Bearer solemnly nodded, her pale eyes blinking, « The Headmaster told me it was about a Contamination spell on an underage witch. I was quite surprised. I have not seen much of those lately. You'll guide me to her?»

Tonks fumbled in her robes and she retrieved a faded teacup, an illegal Portkey she had spelled earlier. The gloved hand and the nail-bitten hand grabbed the teacup and the two women disappeared in a sudden glow of light.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	12. PaxLumina

_Enjoy!_

_Earlier that I thought. I needed a break from research papers._

_Please let me know what you think: it is much appreciated._

* * *

**Chapter 12 **

_**PaxLumina** _

_Where is she?_

Anger, impatience and desperation were firing in Harry's chest.

_We are waiting._

_And waiting._

They have been waiting for an hour now, but Harry felt he had been in this room for thrice as much.

Sitting on Ginny's bed, legs and arms crossed, Harry was slouching against the wall and his legs were beginning to feel awfully numb. He circled his knees with his arms as he brought his legs closer to him with caution, wishing not to wake up Ginny. She had fallen asleep; he could feel her back against his right thigh and her hair was drawing a blazing question mark on the quilt. Harry turned his head to her and he watched her normally radiant face scrunched with concern: Ginny was muttering something in her sleep and she was moving slightly her head as she was trying to avoid things that were flying her way.

Harry drew his hand on her shoulder, hoping that his gesture would break through the fog of her dream and appease her. This last hour had been a frustrating one; he was acutely experiencing the strong ambivalent feeling of wanting to be useful _and_ acknowledging his helplessness. Earlier, Harry had paced up and down the bedroom - before Bill told him to keep his cool with a tone that clearly did not invite further discussion.

When Harry asked again for explanations,

_I refuse to shut up_

_I want to know_

_I need to now_

_I demand to know_

Lupin had repeated to him in a tired voice that everything was out of their hands now, that Tonks would bring the Bearer to the Burrow. He had explained - as if Harry had never heard that before - that she was not a Healer. Lupin had sighed when he saw Harry's frustrated face and he had added reluctantly, « She will Bear the spell, Harry. That's how _they_ do it.»

«_Bear_ the spell?» had inquired Harry with a frown. Lupin had impatiently nodded and said, «Bear, carry, Harry…_whatever_ she's capable of doing. With any luck, Hermione will not be bothered by the spell anymore. She'll get her health back.»

Hope had ignited in Harry's chest and he had trillions of questions to ask Lupin but Snape extinguished all hopes of him learning more about this when the sullen Potions Master said in a monotonous voice, his back to them, «You are showing an _unusually_ optimistic demeanour towards this situation, _Lupin_. The Bearer will be able to do that…_If_ she accepts to follow the girl.» Red patches had colored Lupin's sallow cheeks and Harry heard him say between his teeth, «She _will_ follow Tonks.» Harry read the darkening eyes of his ex-professor and he understood that the subject was off-limits now.

But right now, Ginny whimpered in her sleep and Harry gently squeezed her shoulder. The only way he could help, after all, was to sit up to the ones who _could_ wake up. Feeling eyes gazing on him, he caught Bill's intense look at him. Apprehending that Bill could think he was too familiar with his baby sister, Harry mechanically lifted his hand from Ginny's shoulder but Bill's smile was sad and Harry watched him hide it behind the fist he was clenching against his mouth.

They had witnessed Hermione becoming more restless, her fingers contracting like claws and her breath labouring in a low, guttural pant.

_**Where** is Tonks?_

Bill's lengthy silhouette was leaning against the doorframe, his wand partly slipped under the waistband of his pyjamas. Lupin had conjured two chairs and he was sitting on one, his fingers crossed under his chin and his eyes closed. Harry thought that if earlier Lupin had been reassuring about the Bearer's incoming visit, he was doing a pretty lousy job at hiding his concern right now. Harry fixated on Ron's hair, as his friend was still as a statue.

After Tonks had Disapparated, Ron had covered Hermione with the thin bed sheet. Harry had watched his assured and gentle movements with a lump in his throat.

_Ron, please speak_

_Say something_

_Shout_

_Hit something_

_You don't look like yourself, mate_

Ron was now prostrated on Hermione's bedside, his face against the mattress, his head resting on his crossed arms. Harry had tried to talk to him; he had tried to convince him to sit besides him, but Ron had freed himself from Harry's grasp and he had not said a word for more than an hour now. Since Harry could not see his face, he presumed Ron had surrendered to sleep.

Arthur and Molly Weasley had left the room as soon Tonks had Disapparated and from the sounds that could reach Harry, they were intensely discussing.

Snape had transformed the top of a chest of drawersinto an improvised potions laboratory. Harry had watched him closely – with hostile eyes and biting his tongue – as the wizard mixed an astonishing number of infinitesimal quantities of ingredients in what seemed to be a silver-lined wood goblet he had retrieved from his travel bag. Harry had no idea so much ingredients could go in a potion and he could not help feeling angry with him.

_For breathing in the same room as me and the people I treasure _

_And not being able to do anything_

Snape was draining a few drops from numerous tiny vials and grating crumbs from what seemed like DragonTree roots to him. Harry felt almost lethargic while looking at the Potions Master precise and assured hands that wavered over the goblet, as Snape measured ingredients in a silver thimble with an obsessive precision. Snape grabbed his wand from time to time and muttered something incomprehensible at the goblet and a light fume or a spark would idly draw from it. He took the goblet between his hands, rolled it between his palms and got an intent whiff of it. Only then, he would take out more ingredients from his travel bag that looked with endless resources.

The fluid moves above the goblet had plunged Harry into a sort of trance and he snapped out of it only when Lupin's hoarse voice spoke, «They're here.» Voices were coming from the ground floor and Harry heard Mrs. Weasley welcoming the new arrivals in an unusually high-pitched voice. Harry jolted when Ron's head shot up, his blue eyes clear and his lips tight. Harry grasped that Ron had not slept a second since he had dropped his head on the mattress.

Harry gently shook Ginny and she lifted her head, a little disoriented, «What?» As she managed to sit besides him while rubbing her eyes, he repeated to her in a low voice, «They're here, Ginny. Tonks and the Bearer. They've arrived.» They all turned expectantly to the door, as Bill was moving back in the room to let them in.

Lupin looked hugely relieved when a disheveled purple-haired Tonks came in, almost tripping on her own feet. An smell of rubbish came in with her and Harry could not hide his frown, as Lupin was scrunching his nose. Tonks shrugged and mumbled with a wince to Lupin, «It's not like I had a _choice_ for the meeting point. But I've brought her back. I did it _safely_, Remus.»

A woman followed her into the room, and Harry began to feel uncomfortable as she pushed away her hood with a gloved hand, displaying damp curly hair of an indefinable color. Harry had drawn to himself an image of what he thought a Bearer would look like, with the little information he had on her. Being able to help people should give her warmth, Harry had decided.

_Yeah, motherly maybe, with a soft face like Mrs Weasley _

_Comforting, definitely, like Mrs Pomfrey_

_Sinister_, _disfigured_ and _downright chilling_ were words that had not came to Harry's mind.

_Incidentally, they are the same words I would have attributed to Mad Eye Moody. _

He was reminded as he detailed her scarred face that she _was_ an Auror after all and that she held a dangerous job.

Harry watched her enter the crowded bedroom: the Bearer dropped without ceremony her cloak on the vacant chair and she frowned at Hermione with a serious look that seemed to Harry almost on the verge of anger. She took a few steps in the room and he pondered that her walk made her look like she was some kind of a feline: she was almost walking on the tip of her toes, looking ready to pounce and her gloved hand was firmly holding her wand. A mix of cold rage, sadness and strength was radiating from her. Harry swallowed hard: Lupin had said this woman was a potent witch. She seemed to him plain scary.

Harry stifled an «ow» when Ginny embedded her nails in his forearm, seemingly sharing his opinion about the woman. For Harry, the most upsetting thing in that ravaged face was not the scars that made her look much older she truly was, but those colorless eyes that looked unreal.

A heavy silence was lingering in the room and Harry glanced at the Bearer: her eyes were casted solely on Hermione and Ron. When her gaze finally crossed Ron's, Harry cringed when he saw his friend's back agitated by a shudder. The Bearer heaved a deep sigh, and she seemed to realize they were other people in the room to acknowledge. She tilted her head to her right in a rather curt move and she looked directly into Harry's eyes.

Harry had the strange feeling of looking at the sun on a cold winter day, when one is blinded, blinks furiously and is not able to feel the warmth of it. He glanced away and Ginny pressed her hand against his.

Arthur and Molly Weasley came in with red spots on their cheeks, a parent defeated and the other one silently triumphant. Bill stared at the Bearer with an indecipherable expression and his voice was incredulous, «_Fabiola Luz_?»

The woman removed her black gloves finger by finger and Harry noticed with a growing trouble that her hands looked like they had been badly burned.

_She's damaged_

_What happened to her?_

The woman looked intently at Bill and she briefly said, her voice creaking as she had screamed too much, «Hello Bill. Nice to see you. Haven't changed a bit. Been a while, isn't it?»

Bill slowly nodded and Harry saw a flicker of pity in his face and something else, something that looked like a pained expression. Bill grabbed one of her hands in his and said, «After all the Goblins told me about the rebellion while I was in Egypt- » His voice trailed a bit but he cleared his throat and he added, «I did believe I would never see you _alive_ again, Fabiola.» Harry heard irony in her voice as she retorted with a jab, «_Alive_, Bill? Well, look at me. I'm here. Isn't it marvelous?»

She carefully withdrew her hand from Bill's and she stared at Lupin with curiosity, «You must be Lupin. I've heard about you…You're a werewolf, aren't you?» Harry saw Tonks tighten her lips. Lupin nodded and shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his faded trousers, his eyes still on the Auror.

Harry had the weird impression that Luz and Lupin were _sniffing_ each other.

«Miss Luz. What an _honour_. You left your _dangerous_ missions for us.» Snape's voice, sharp as a knife, brought back Harry to his senses. The Bearer turned to him and she stated, mimicking the bite in his voice, «_Professor_ Snape. I did not expect you would _bother _to travel for a _Contamino_.» Snape's face blushed into an uneasy shade of crimson.

Luz circled the bed without waiting for Snape's answer and she lowered her burned hand on Ron's shoulder. She said with a surprising kindness, her pale eyes riveted on Hermione, «She's your friend.»

Harry thought it was much more an affirmation than a question. He watched Ron nodding solemnly and the Bearer kneeled besides the red-haired teenage wizard, « I may help her. I'll need a bit of space to do that, okay?» Ron got to his feet and he sat on the edge of Ginny's bed. Her sister held his arm affectionately as they all leaned closer so they could watch the Auror push back the bed sheet.

Mrs. Weasley's eager voice urgently said: «She was hit on the stomach. She has a mark. A purple mark.» Harry felt uneasy: the young woman did not care about the accelerated breathings around her. Her eyes were closed and her hands were hovering an inch over Hermione's body.

Her slashed hands were moving swiftly above Hermione's stomach, as ifshe was trying to sense the wound. Harry swallowed hard when suddenly Luz traced sharply with her left hand the same move the Death Eater had drawn on Hermione with his wand. With the tips of her damaged fingers, she touched the magical wound and Hermione swished in her troubled sleep.

Disgust reeked from her broken voice, «Dolohov. That sorry excuse of a wizard.»

Harry could not help himself; he interjected, completely thrown aback, «How… How can you _know _who hexed her?»

The woman slowly turned to him and her ravaged face again stunned Harry. As he tried to avoid her cold eyes, he got a glimpse of three small marks near her eye, three precise crescent shape marks that stood out in her already marked face.

C_rescent shape marks _

It was familiar to him, who had told him about these?

_Crescent shape marks _

_Tonks_

Suddenly afraid of the idea that infiltrated his mind, Harry stuttered, «You…you… _know_ him. » Fabiola Luz stayed impassible as she looked intently at his forehead, «Nice deduction, Mr. Potter. I wouldn't say I _know_ him, but it's certainly not the first time I've been in contact with his-» She briefly paused and Harry heard Snape impatiently snorting while she said slowly, «How shall I say? His… _handiwork_. I know only a few wizards who would be cruel enough to cast a _Contamino_ on an underage witch.» Luz turned back to Hermione and she jumped to her feet, raising her wand menacingly across the people in the room, «Now, listen carefully to me: it will be _my_ way or no way. I can Bear it for her, no problem. But decide _now_ if you leave this room. If not, I don't want anybody to approach me while I'm working. No pretext will hold; I'll defend myself and I won't be able to control my strength. »

Luz turned on her heels; Harry saw her wand dangle in front of his nose and she pierced her forehead again with her gaze, «You need to move farther away from me.» Before Harry could protest, she pointed Snape with her wand and she sneered, «You too. Please move away from me.» Dumbfounded, Harry slipped to the feet of the bed and Tonks pulled him close to her. Her grip was strong for such a small woman and Harry watched Snape move reluctantly near the door.

Arthur Weasley looked at his wife with a frighteningly severe face, «I won't watch _this_.» He turned his heels and went out the room while Bill circled his mother's shoulders. Mrs. Weasley said, in a pleading voice, «Ginny…Please, I want you to go with your father and -» but the teenage girl pressed herself against her brother, «I'm _staying_, Mum.» Ron grabbed his sister's hand and they cuddled up against one another on Ginny's bed.

When everybody stopped moving, Luz gave a last look around the room and she finally looked satisfied. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, while Harry stopped breathing. Her arm drew a swift gesture over her head, as she was cracking a whip in the air and her broken voice snapped in the room, «_Duoprotego_!»

Harry felt Tonks jolt against his back and he blinked furiously: the air was vibrating around Hermione and Luz. Harry rubbed his eyes. A glittery silver cloud was enshrouding them and Harry had the feeling the air was blurred. Tonks strengthened her grip on him. Around him, everybody had ghostly shadows moving in their faces. They were all blinking and Harry was relieved he was not the only one having trouble seeing.

To his left, he saw from the corner of his eye that Snape was moving slightly and Luz, in a rapid move, aggressively pointed the wand to him, her voice muffled by the protection shield, «If you move, _Sir_, I'll Stupefix you. I won't hesitate a minute. Don't contaminate my space. You'll kill her.» Bill grabbed Snape's arm and firmly pulled him back as the Potions Master scowled.

Harry could not see very well the Bearer's expression but he saw her head bow towards Hermione's limp body. Her wand drew the same gesture the Death Eater had done on his friend and she muttered something that sounded like «_Aditus!» _to Harry. The air began to quickly pulsate in the shield and Harry found himself not relieved at all. A feeling of dread sank his stomach.

_I'm not sure I want to see this_

The Bearer closed her eyes and Harry realized that in the blurriness of the silver bubble, the scary woman looked terribly pale and frail.

She breathed, «_Paxlumina_!»

The intense light that pulsated in the room made Harry scream, going against his initial will of not wanting to be impressed: a thick, purple smoke infused the protection shield Luz had conjured. Tonks was holding his arm tightly; he could hear her shallow breath in his ear, «She's attracting the spell out.»

Harry squinted, trying to see what was happening behind the purple blur. When it started to fade a bit, what he saw made his blood freeze in his veins; the Bearer's body was arched backwards and she was _soaking_ herself with the smoke. Tonks lowered her forehead on his shoulder as she cringed and Harry drew his hands to his mouth. The smoke was disappearing slowly in the shield and Harry's hands quivered when he understood what the Bearer was doing: it was awful, _horrible_ to see her willingly absorb the hex.

Purple flickers were illuminating Ginny and Ron's horrified faces. Mrs Weasley screamed, «Good Lord!» and Bill held her closely to him as she circled his waist. The only person in that room that did not seem shocked was Snape: Harry caught a mere look of interest in his face.

A powerful light, gleaming and painful to the eyes, bolted in the room with violence. Harry covered his eyes with his hands. Harry heard a few pained expressions and the light became feeble again. The silvery shield popped with a grave sound. Fabiola Luz was on her knees, cradling herself with her burned hands, breathing hard and fast.

Escaping Tonks' powerful grip, Harry jumped to her and she pointed her wand towards him with a fierce expression, «DON'T TOUCH ME!» But Harry's hand grazed hers unwillingly and he let out a pained cry: her skin was burning. Luz let fall her wand on the bed and she raised a trembling hand, «I'm _fine_. Don't touch me.» Her eyes grazed his and Harry saw with alarm a wisp of purple smoke looming in her colorless eyes. She faintly whispered to Mrs. Weasley who approached her with a fearful expression on her face, «The dream is gone. She was tightly holding to it, though. She'll need rest and a visit to a Healer so she'll be assured I did not leave anything behind.» Luz turned to Ron and her casual voice contradicted her pale face, «Your friend put up a good fight.You'll have her back.»

Harry touched Hermione's leg with the tips of his fingers, «Hermione?» Her face looked calm, appeased: her cheeks seemed pinker to him and she moved her head, as she was about to wake up. Ron jumped to his feet and he rammed into Harry, almost making him fall under the impact. Harry crossed Ron's gaze and he felt an overpowering impatience to see Hermione open those big, brown, intelligent eyes again.

Meanwhile, Snape walked swiftly to the chest of drawers and retrieved the silver lined goblet. His robes clapped soundly when he turned around and he curtly held it towards Luz, over Hermione slowly awaking body. The Bearer looked at him suspiciously, her face harden by pain. Snape croaked,« Purity Potion. I'm convinced you did not _dare_ to prepare it yourself. » The young woman finally blinked and took the goblet from the Potions Master's hands. She drank the red liquid in long sips and when she held back the goblet to him, she did not look him in the eye as her face was softening from relief, «Thank you, Sir.» This time, there was no irony in her broken voice.

_Snape knew she would come_

_He knew it all along_

«Hmmm….» Hermione whimpered and Molly Weasley caught her hand with tenderness. She let out a small cry of surprise, «The mark! It's not there anymore! This is incredible! Miss Luz, I don't know where to start...»

Harry watched with amazement his friend's perfectly smooth, white skin. A small crescent shape scar veined with purple and pink subsisted on her stomach. Luz straightened up wearily and let her place to Ginny who took her friend's hand between hers. She said with a voice that sounded like velvet to Harry, «It's over Hermione. You'll be just fine.»

Hermione's eyes slowly opened and she looked dazed to see so much people around her. Mrs. Weasley pulled back the bed sheet on her and cupped her face with her hands, kissing her on the forehead in a relieved gesture. Hermione did not seem to register the big fat tears that were lining Mrs Weasley's cheeks.

Shoulder to shoulder, Harry and Ron glanced again at each other. Harry suddenly felt so relieved to see Hermione batting her eyelids he let out a chuckle, half laughing half sobbing. Ron's eyes crinkled as he broke into a mixed smile. Harry thought Ron was doing a very good job at hiding his happiness, but he could see his cheeks blushing as he kneeled to her bedside, finally looking like the old Ron.

_The one who has no idea what to do with his limbs_

Hermione turned her head slightly towards Ron and Harry bit his lip: he understood now that Ron's feelings for Hermione were much more complex he would have thought they would be.

Ron was boisterous and loud and looked deceptively like a simple chap, but what Harry had witnessed in the last few hours was much more than he could expect from a bloke with the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Hermione frowned, looking confuse. She looked at Ron, who was becoming redder by the second and her parched lips opened to let out a murmur, «Vi...Vik…tor?» Thunderstruck, Harry looked at Ron whowent from flaming red to snow pale; he stood up so hastily Ginny fell back on her bed and he left the bedroom like a storm, pushing out of his way a gaping Tonks in Lupin's arms. Harry exchanged with Ginny an appalled look.

«That's a nasty blow, » appropriately whispered Tonks while rubbing her elbow as Lupinclinged to her.

* * *

_Can't the writer leave Ron alone for a second?_

_Let me think about it..._

_No._

_To be continued._


	13. A Liar, a Thinker, and a Gnome Thrower

_MysticScribe's notes:_

_I am back after suffering from a severe Mary Sue panic attack – effusive thanks to Snitch for reading my overflowing fears. ; ) If you have read Hogwarts' Unofficial Archives, you already know by now that I'm borrowing without shame from my own stories. Tsstsstss, copying myself. _

_I'm bringing you here a long chapter that I wish to be worthy, with a lot of people leaving rooms and apocalyptic teenage angst: Harry and Ginny have a row, Ron and Harry have a talk about feelings cough and I put into Ginny's mouth words that I am sure a few R/Hr shippers out there would like to scream at the pages of book 6._

_I wish you'll enjoy this._

**Chapter 13**

**A Liar, a Gnome Thrower and a Thinker **

After Ron's hasty exit from the bedroom, silence lingered as Hermione seemed to be struggling to regain her senses. Luz walked back with difficulty to the chair where she had dropped her cloak and she let herself fall on it. She held her head between her hands and massaged her temples with her burned fingers. She then put back her gloves and hesitantly rose up, looking already a little more steady on her feet. Tonks looked at her with an expectant face and the Bearer grudgingly said, «The Purity potion is working.» Snape sneered, «_Of_ _course_, it's working. _What_ were you expecting?»

The Potions Master casted a _Scourgify_ with an irritated flick of his wand to clean the goblet and he dropped it in the worn travel bag. He then proceeded to gather the vials with great care and Harry saw him give a small bottle to Mrs Weasley who pocketed it with a silent thanks.

Thumping noises suddenly disrupted the quietness of the room. The sounds seemed to be coming from a room nearby. Harry looked at Ginny with dread: that was certainly not the ghoul in the attic. Bill pulled back a wisp of red hair behind his ear and sadly smiled, «I'll better check on Ron before he demolishes everything.»

Harry watched Bill firmly shake the Bearer's gloved hand and the young man turned away, bolting out of the room. Lupin rubbed his hands together, his eyes not leaving Hermione who was still blinking, looking completely out of it.

Harry jolted when Lupin turned to the Bearer with haste, «Is she healed? You cured her, didn't you?» The Bearer looked on the verge of irritation as she snapped back, « I _told_ you. I'm not a Healer. But she should be fine. She's a fighter, that one.» Snape clasped shut his bag and he moved to the door. His dark eyes looked down on the young woman who was draping herself with her damp cloak, «I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of _you_.»

Luz studied Snape's stiff face and she said in a whisper, «Some of you more that others, I guess.» Snape snorted with disgust and his cloak flapped behind him as he went out the room without looking back.

« You' re ready, Luz? Think you can Disapparate?» asked a fidgety Tonks. The Auror nodded and glanced furtively again at Hermione. Harry watched the two women walk away and Lupin took a few steps towards Mrs Weasley, «I'm going with them, Molly. We have to, _hum_…» Lupin struggled with his words and he spitted out, « We have to deliver Luz safely. I'll be back in a few days. » Mrs Weasley sadly smiled and nodded as Lupin rushed out of the room.

The bedroom felt almost too big now without the people who had deserted it. Harry was kneeling beside the bed at Ginny's side. Mrs. Weasley was holding Hermione's hand and Harry realized that the loud thumps had stopped. Hermione's eyes wandered around and she feebly smiled to Mrs. Weasley who murmured, «That's my girl.» Harry tried to smile as Hermione's dark circled eyes grazed him: the Bearer had said she would be okay. Harry repeated the words in his head, like a magical incantation he was trying to learn.

_She's okay. She's okay. Okay._

«It's over, Hermione. That awful dream of yours is over, » Ginny softly said. Hermione nodded, «I know. The voice told me so. » Harry frowned and covered her hand with his, «What voice? » His friend moved her head to him and her chapped lips stretched into a smile, as she looked at him with an almost radiant expression, «The voice behind the haze. It told me it was going to bear the dream and the fear for me. At first, I didn't want too, it seemed unfair to give that dream to somebody else, but…» Hermione took a sip of water from the glass Mrs. Weasley had brought to her and she swallowed, letting her head fall back on the pillow. «The voice was so soothing and it encouraged me to let it go, so I did it. » Hermione's eyes wandered again and she anxiously asked, «Where's Ron? »

Mrs Weasley shot a warning glance to Ginny who had already opened her mouth. The woman forced a contrived smile on her lips, «He's gone for a few minutes, dear. I'll bring you tea and cookies.»

OOOoooOOO

Downstairs, a discussion was raging.

Remus Lupin watched Tonks with a deep frown as she insisted, shaking her head in violent denial, «Snape, you are not coming with us. No way. Remus and I are the carriers here. Moody is waiting for _us_. Dumbledore wants her in Hogwarts tonight and he specifically asked me to advise you to go back to Spinner's End until he sends you an owl. I think he's expecting you to be contacted by the Death Eaters about her when her appointment will be publicized tomorrow. _You_ don't need _me_ to know the drill. »

Looking ill pleased, Snape crossed his arms in a cold defiant gesture, «I'm not sure _you're_ qualified to give _me_ orders, _Nymphadora_.» Lupin winced when he saw Tonks face the irritated Potions Master, her nose up in an aggressive stance he knew too well. Arthur Weasley was in the middle of this, trying to chasten them.

To his side, Luz mumbled, «I don't want to teach those bloody brats. What kind of dimwitted protection plan is that, anyway? I'll be out in the open. I won't be able to go back to Magical Secret Services after that. » Lupin turned to her and he said to her, perhaps more harshly he wanted to sound, «It is a good position. If you are near Dumbledore, you'll be protected, that's all. It's the best we can offer you. You don't have the choice. »

As Tonks vehemently repeated in the background, «Over my dead body, Snape! » Lupin watched with growing anxiety her hair morph into a short pink mohawk. Luz leaned towards Lupin. He got a whiff of mint as she inched towards him. Lupin pursed his lips with nervousness when she inquired, « You had that position once, right? » The man clenched his jaw and answered back with a frown, «Yes, I _did_.» The scarred woman looked him in the eye without kindness, « And why did you leave it? Ineptitude? The spoiled brats got your head?»

Lupin swallowed back a blistering remark and wryly snapped, «So you know, I was appreciated by the _kids_. No, lycanthropy drove me away from the school. That information got away and _parents_ did not enjoy that small detail about a DADA professor teaching their kids. » To Lupin's surprise, Luz broke into inappropriately loud laughter. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and he waited for her to calm down. She rubbed her eyes and her broken voice quivered in an unpleasant mirth as she sniggered, « If the parents were afraid of _you_…I'll have to keep an eye out for a HitWizard when they will learn that a _Bearer_ is teaching their precious kids. »

OOOoooOOO

When Harry woke up a few hours later, he did not have to retrieve his glasses to see that Ron's bed was empty and partially made, as usual. He quickly got dressed and was getting ready to go down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley' soft voice made him stop in his tracks.

«Arthur went with her at St.Mungo's, Bill. I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm so glad Fabiola had accepted to do this. It must not be enjoyable for her. » Bill's voice was a bit hoarse when he said slowly, « No, Mum, I don't think it is. But we did what was best for Hermione. » Harry heard a rumble in the kitchen and he jerked when Ginny's still damp hair brushed on his bare forearm as she pressed herself against him. She put a finger to her lips as she sat in the stairs.

Harry joined her and he heard Molly Weasley's voice again. This time, she seemed in pain.

«She said it was _Dolohov_ who did that to Hermione. _Dolohov_, Bill.» Ginny grasped Harry's arm and he saw mist in her eyes while he heard downstairs the legs of a chair screeching on the floor.

Bill said softly, his voice being muffled by something, «Mum, I promise you, we'll get him. He will not take more from us. » Harry swallowed and saw Ginny wipe a tear as Mrs Weasley was saying something unintelligible as she was crying harder. Bill's soothing voice was heard again, « I know, I know, Mum. I know. I promise, it won't happen again. » Mrs Weasley retorted sharply, her voice broken by her tears, «Don't make promises you cannot honour, Bill. » Silence loomed in the kitchen and was only broken by Mrs Weasley's sniffing. Bill said with resolution in his voice, « I promise nobody will forget what Dolohov did, Mum.»

Harry circled Ginny's shoulders and her mouth brushed against his ear as she whispered, «That wizard…that Death Eater killed Mum's brothers. »

Harry said nothing: he kissed her forehead and her closed eyes. He tried to be as soothing as Bill as he offered his arms to her. Harry feverishly wished he would be able to do what was needed from him, someday, that would shield that wounded family forever.

OOOoooOOO

When Hermione came back to the Burrow an hour later, Mr. Weasley held her gently by the elbow so she could safely extirpate herself out of the fireplace. Mr Weasley looked immensely tired but he could not hide the relief that was creeping to his eyes. Ron did not condescend to lift his eyes up from his eggs.

Even if Hermione's face was gaunt, something in her mouth and in her posture made Harry breathe easier. She was _back_: she had on her face that serious, intense look that utterly made her Hermione. She briefly smiled to Mrs. Weasley, as she dusted her robes, « I'm clear. They did not found any residual of the hex. » Hermione pulled from her robes a small vial containing a turquoise syrupy liquid. « It's a fortifying potion. Ten drops in my morning pumpkin juice for a week should help me to regain the strength and the weight I lost. »

Mr. Weasley turned to his wife and said softly as he took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes, «The Healer said we should keep her home for a few days, so she can get plenty of sleep.» Harry winced as Hermione turned to Mr.Weasley with a pleading look on her face, «Mr. Weasley, you've been so good to me, but _please_, I'd like to leave for Hogwarts with everybody. I need to- » Mrs. Weasley interrupted her, raising a firm hand in the air, «We'll see that, Hermione. Now, you need to rest. » The woman bravely smiled and pulled Hermione to her, her hands slicking her bushy hair around her face. Ginny jumped to her feet and held Hermione in a bear embrace.

Harry saw Hermione's eyes tear up a bit before he brought her close to her in a short clumsy hug, inhaling the usual smell of ashes that lingered after a Flood. Ron lifted himself from the table and his mother gave him an incentive glare, as he was opening his mouth to say something. Everybody froze in the kitchen when Ron threw Hermione a disgusted look: without saying a word, he turned away and banged the door under Hermione's dumbfounded expression. «What did I do?» she wearily said, rubbing her stomach, as Ginny followed her brother out with the word "war" almost glittering on her forehead.

OOOoooOOO

«This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot of dimwitted plans, believe me.»

Later that afternoon, Harry had hastily pulled Ginny into the broom cupboard. «Urgent meeting,» he had whispered in her ear as he was literally dragging her up the stairs. Her conniving smile had morphed into a derisive smirk as he was talking to her about his Plan.

_Well, **I** have a plan, at least._

If Harry had survived almost unscathed to Ron and Hermione's fights through the years, this one was announcing itself as One for the Ages. To this hour, Ron had not talked to her nor he had not uttered two straight words to anybody else for that matter, metamorphosing himself into a growling, monosyllabic creature with a tempestuous temper, raising a ponder-worthy question in Harry's furious mind.

_How is this very different from the usual Ron?_

It seemed Ron had found solace by freeing Mrs. Weasley's overflowing garden of the gnomes that were munching on her carrots. Harry had found himself in the kitchen staring at the Weasleys' clock, hauled between his desire to see how Hermione was coping and to comfort Ron. He could not explain the feeling of slight panic he was experiencing, but it seemed to him _he_ had to do something.

Then, the Plan had struck him like a bolt of lightening and Harry had towed Ginny upstairs. She was now looking at him with mock pity. He desperately wanted to be reassured about it.

_It can work, I know it. _

Ginny was not making this easier. Before Harry could stiffly retort something back, Ginny crossed her arms and shot him back a smile that was shining with irony, «How do you believe you'll convince him? » Harry snorted and crossed his arms too.

_Be strong_

He scornfully said, «It could have been a misunderstanding, isn't it? It's _possible_.» Ginny leaned against the wall and tugged her t-shirt on her waist, «Yeah, it's possible. But it's awfully lame.» As Ginny let out a brief bark of laughter, Harry clenched his fists, «It's not _lame_ at all. What's _your_ plan?» Ginny chuckled in a way that made Harry's blood run a little faster in his veins and she answered with a huge grin, «I've learn this summer I should not have plans for others than myself, Harry. Let them work out their differences.» She stood in front of him in silence and Harry stared at the lovely smirking girl in front of him.

Harry swallowed and he insisted, with increased stubbornness, «You talked to Ron this morning and obviously your _thing_ did not work out. » Ginny sniggered as she pointed herself, «My _thing_?I told him he was a git and a prat and the most insensitive bloke that ever walked on this side of the wizarding -» but Harry interrupted her tirade.

He frowned with incredulity and he said, «_Insensitive_, Ginny? I can't believe you were that mean to him. She said Viktor. As in Ron-can't-stand-him Viktor.» Ginny blushed and a warning tone echoed in her voice, «She was coming out from this bloody dream where she was seeing you die! She could have screamed Harry, for the love of Merlin! Would I have left stomping like a Hippogriff?»

Harry shook his head and sneezed from the dust in the closet. He could feel heat rise up to his face and he retorted back, «He took care of her, you saw it, you were there! It was like he was slapped in the face. » Ginny's eyes were fiery but she said in a calm voice, « Are we fighting about this, Harry? Because if we are, you'll never see the end of it.»

But Harry bravely decided to crossed that boundary and he hissed, «That's _always_ the problem with them. They get into danger or trouble and then they fight and they put everybody in the middle. I'm _always_ stuck between them.» Ginny snapped back, «Well, don't go _running_ in the middle of it. For all I know, Ron is alone in that fight, here. Hermione does not even know about this, doesn't she? You didn't _dare_ to tell her, do you?»

Harry opened the door and abruptly turned to her, «And _you_ didn't say a word to her either, as I understand it. So I'll talk to Ron, and you'll get a word with Hermione. This discussion is ending right now. » Harry ran down the stairs, not looking at Ginny who was mumbling an incongruous number of words that would have won her a lengthy speech from her mother.

OOOoooOOO

Harry's heart was pumping and he banged out of the Burrow, walking in long strides towards the garden.

_Think fast_

Ron was in the middle of the lavish garden: Harry could see his glowering red face and the ridiculous straw hat that was hiding his hair. Ron's t-shirt was drenched with sweat and Harry could see that his friend was working with rabid energy: the gnomes were flying with regularity in the air with loud protesting shrieks. Harry approached him and wisely held himself out of the trajectories of Ron's powerful throws.

Harry smiled with a palpable uneasiness, «_Soooo_… Ron. What's up?»

Ron did not answer. Harry watched his friend throw away a small shrieking creature with a mighty swing. Harry whistled between his teeth with appreciation, a hand above his eyes as his gaze followed the perfect arc of the gnome's unwilling flight. He tried to look debonair, «Wow, mate. Have you thought of training seriously for Gnome Throwing? Hermione told me once about a professional Thrower who won fifty Galleons in a competition -» Ron's unusually serious face silenced Harry for a minute.

As Ron was filling the hole he had emptied with a spadeful of freshly tossed earth, Harry kicked a pebble with the tip of his sneaker. He studied his friend's face that looked more sunburned than irate. Harry decided he had waited enough. Pushing away from his mind Ginny's derisive smile, he went for it and lied with all the nerve he had, « I believe she said _Vector_.»

Ron looked down and flattened a small clump with a stomp of his earth-covered shoe. He did not utter a word and Harry believed his silence was a good omen. He was going to add on that but Ron abruptly lifted his head and Harry saw his eyes gleaming in his sweaty red face. Ron panted, «_Vector_.»

Harry swallowed and

_Okay, thread lightly here, Potter_

he tried to look nonchalant, as he said with a confident face, «Yeah, Ron. Vector. As in Hogwarts' Professor Vector. » Ron's eyes were almost steely when he repeated without expression, «_Vector_.» Harry nodded, thinking he had nailed the point. But when Ron opened his mouth again, it was to shout at him, «_VECTOR_? WHY IN THE BLOODY WIZARDING WORLD WOULD SHE SAY _VECTOR_? »

_Good point_

Harry stuttered a bit, « Er…You know her…she's obsessed about school and stuff. Seems logical to me.»

_Somewhere, Ginny is laughing her head off_

Ron shot back, «I'm not a Troll, you know. Bill tried to _comfort_ me, can you imagine?» Ron winced with disgust and threw the shovel on the ground. « He gave me the three Bs.» Harry's mind went into overdrive and he chuckled as he understood, remembering a jab from Fred, « Oh yeah. I've heard about that one. The Big Brother Bill routine.»

Ron snorted and shook his head, « Yeah. He gave me the whole works: the serious face, the hand on the shoulder and everything. He tried to _hug_ me, bloody hell. Don't try to fool me, Harry. I heard well. She said _Viktor_.»

_Abort the plan, he's finally talking_

Not wanting to directly answer to Ron, Harry pleaded, « Hermione asked for you when she finally came to her senses. She wanted to see you, Ron. If she knew how…_nice_ and protective you were to her last night, she would have - » Ron took back the shovel and dug the earth in what seemed to be an unnecessary move to Harry. Ron's voice was raspy and pained when he said, « If she knew how nice I was to her… I'm a bloody stupid moronic idiot, mate. I thought that maybe if I…» Ron's voice trailed and he turned his back to Harry.

Harry bit his lips and watched Ron's back tense up as he was digging another random hole in the ground. Ron spoke again with a strangled voice, «Hermione saw Krum this summer.»

Harry gritted his teeth and ruffled his hair. He wanted to run back to Ginny and Hermione and shake the answers from them. He opened his mouth and uttered, «Well, mate, it's not a surprise to you, no? He's her…friend.» Ron turned to him and pointed a menacing finger to his glasses. «You hesitated here.»

Suddenly frustrated and feeling perfectly inadequate to shake his friend out of his misery, Harry shouted, «STOP THIS RUBBISH, RON! YOU'RE SEEING EVERYTHING WRONG!» They glared at each other and Ron pushed back his hat to wipe his forehead.

He spoke in a dull tone, « She went two weeks in Bulgaria before coming here. I learned about it when I used the felly tone - » Harry interrupted, «Telephone.» Ron shrugged and dug the earth with a renewed energy, «Bless you. The point is, she was visiting _Vicky_ this summer. Her parents told me.» Ron's voice was gloomy as he kneeled to tear out a weed with abusive strength, «She never told me, mate. She _hid_ it from me. She doesn't even know I'm aware of that. She acted so weird all summer.»

Harry had a choice: he could share Hermione's giggling reaction when he had told her that Ron fancied her, but that would implicate that he divulged something that Ron had not said with words but was oozing from his pores nevertheless.

Harry scratched his cheek and shrugged, « She was sick, mate. I don't believe she hid it from you. I think she kept silence on this. She knows how you react to him.» Ron did not show that he was listening to him.

Ron mumbled, «I tried to be nice with her this summer, you know. Treat her nicely. But there was the moment where I accidentally made her fall into the pound with all her clothes on. And there was also the time when the Bludger hit her right in the face and the time where…» Harry lifted a hand and miraculously concealed a smirk, «Okay, okay, Ron, I got the picture.»

When he watched his friend wipe his face with his t-shirt, Harry's stomach tightened. He understood what Ron was saying. He had tried to be nice to Cho Chang - with disturbing results. Wanting to be helpful, Harry said, «You shouldn't be nice, Ron. You should be _yourself_.»

Ron's head shot up and he snapped, «And what does _that_ mean?» Harry was on the verge of shouting again but he caught a glimpse of mischief in the eyes of his friend. Harry grumbled, «Shove it, Ron. I'm trying to help you. » Ron fell back into a brooding silence and Harry silently watched him scourge the perfect rows of Mrs Weasley's garden.

OOOoooOOO

«I said _Viktor_?»

Completely abashed, Hermione repeated the three words for what seemed to her the umpteenth time. Ginny patiently replied with a quiet voice for the umpteenth time, «Yes, Hermione, you _did_.»

Hermione pushed herself away from the opened window in Ginny's bedroom, the one that was directly above the garden. Sounds of Ron shouting had lead her to eavesdrop the conversation that unfolded outside and she could not avoid being an unwilling witness to Harry's pitiful attempts to patch things up.

_He's such a lousy liar – Vector_

She snorted.

_How pathetic is that? Nobody in his right mind would have believed that_

Hermione rubbed her eyes, mortified.

«Since you will have to appear sooner or later in front of Ron's own paranoid version of the Wizengamot, I strongly suggest you plead temporary insanity, » calmly advised Ginny who was sitting on the floor. Hermione watched her dangle a straw in front of Crookshanks' avid paws. Ginny raised her eyebrows to her, « I mean, do you want me to do something about this? He's my brother, Hermione. I know all about _his_ embarrassing stuff. I could blackowl him to get him to talk to you again.»

Hermione could not hide a frown before registering that her friend was gently mocking her.

« Ginny, don't make it worse. Please. I think it's bad enough the way it is. By the way, I _was_ insane,» slipped Hermione between her teeth. «I was so dazed when I woke up I thought your Mum was Madam Pomfrey. I thought I was in Hogwarts. » Hermione cautiously sat on her bed while clutching her hands and she reproached her, «You should have told me. I could not understand why he was so standoff-ish this morning. When I asked Harry, he turned his head like this and he said, » Hermione did a startling impression of Harry's choppy diction when he was nervous, « _Well…you know Ron. He was…worried about you. He's...a…an… emotive bloke. It goes right to his… head_.»

Ginny's warm laughter fused at the impromptu impersonation. « Harry said _that_? My, he's definitely the undisputed champion of understatements. Ron's head _blows_ _up_ each time it's about you and Viktor. It's a miracle he can still hold his thoughts together. » Ginny sat on the bed right beside her and she lightly slapped her friend's knee. Hermione felt her cheeks turning red and she flatly said, correcting her friend, «Ginny, you know that there is no such thing as "Viktor and me". I told you all about it.»

Ginny leaned back and supported herself on her elbows, as she chuckled, « Yeah, you told me about the way he kissed you this summer and his_ weird _fondling habits.» She rolled her eyes and Hermione could not hide a smirk before Ginny spoke again, « Let me give you a friendly word of advice: never say _that_ to Ron, even if you're tempted to do so when you'll be married with him for years and you're pregnant with your tenth child. There will _never_ be a safe moment for sharing this. He'll buy himself a one-way ticket to St. Mungo's psychiatric ward.»

Profoundly annoyed by Ginny's _ludicrous_ allusions, Hermione brooded in silence and she shrugged as she let herself fall on her back besides her friend who was indulging into _ridiculous_ mirth about this.

_Married with Ron - Good Lord _

_Fred and George, I command, leave this poor girl's mind and body right now_

She feigned detachment as she looked at the ceiling.

Of course, she already knew what Ginny was bringing up. She knew about that darn immature male wizards' rivalry – she had read all about it in _She and He: An Essay on Comparative Psychology of Witches and Wizards under Seventeen _written by those two specialists, what was their names? –

_I have enough material to write a sequel to that book _

_I should owl them_

Hermione hated the idea she was some kind of a territory that had to be won. It was enough to make her resent Viktor _and_ Ron.

She had been sick this summer with that awful hex that had made her feel not as sharp as she would have expected herself to be. What troubled her the most were not the physical effects of it: she could easily explain them. Her loosing weight from the spell disturbed Ron and Harry way too much but what can you expect when one is avoiding to get some sleep because of a horrible dream? It was eating her from the inside.

What secretly worried Hermione about her condition was that she felt her mind was not as solid and resourceful as she wanted it to be. She had memory losses and her mind would turn blank when she tried to remember complicated spells she had read only a few months ago; _that_ made her freak out. She was feeling not much more in control right now, even if the cloud that enshrouded her mind had disappeared.

The undeniable proof about her brain being affected by the spell happened when she arrived at the Burrow. She willingly accepted Ginny's awful, disastrous plan to try to soften her thunderous friendship with Ron.

« First, » had commanded Ginny, « put an end to the foolish fights. »

_That resolution had lasted two whole hours. _

«Then, » had said Ginny, her finger raised in the air, «tone down the lectures, listen to him with an open face, banter a bit…you _know_, friendly flirting. »

_Flirt? What do you mean, flirt? _

_Like bat my eyelashes? No way._

_Look what happened, Ginny._

_Ron took it as a war declaration._

«Finally, _smile_ to him, » had added Ginny, slightly insisting on the word for a reason Hermione could not comprehend.

_Well, he became downright paranoid._

_What did I do wrong?_

Now, Ron was hurt and angry with her because she grumbled _something_ while she was half conscious after what seemed to be an powerful, terrifying act of magic, if she trusted Harry and Ginny's pale faces when she woke up. Ron was infuriating, really: she could have said she had failed Ancient Runes and he would have opened a mildly interested eye. She said _Viktor_ – two mere syllables - and the world as they knew it was coming to an end.

Initially, Hermione had refused to admit to herself that she could _maybe _prefer the one of those two g –er, boys - who had the distressing habit of barking at her while expressing his feelings by fighting with her. However, something happened in Bulgaria; Hermione had felt the hex wake up. She had to seize herself not to leave early and to run back to the Burrow. She had the irrational feeling she would be safe only if she was back at the Burrow. Nowhere else, not even at Hogwarts. Or in St. Mungo's.

Suddenly, Hermione had not being able to stop herself from imagining what Ron thought of what happened at the Ministry, even though Viktor was really sweet and encouraging with the Quidditch lessons.

_Ron would have ridiculed me _

Ron and her did not have the chance to talk much about the fight last spring and Ron was surprisingly capable of analyzing the possible contingencies of events – well, he had surprised _her_ in the past. With a vague excitement she could not explain, she had finally indulged by sending him an owl one day with the uttermost caution, not saying where she was.

Hermione thought that her parents blew everything up by saying to him she was visiting Viktor: she understood now Ron's stiff welcome.

Hermione had felt an overwhelming urge to see Ron, to talk to him, to evacuate what happened in the Department of Mystery where they had fought. She could not share what she went through with Viktor. Only Ron – not even _Harry_ - could bring her what she needed at that time.

_Closure about all this._

_A plan, maybe_

_A line of action _

_We've been sharing the same things; the same events, the same fears, and our concerns for the same endangered friend_

_Ron and I have been sharing so much for almost six years now_

These thoughts made her close her eyes as warmth heated up her face. Hermione would have never acknowledged it last year but she was beginning to understand, perhaps a bit against herself, that Ron and her had much more in common than what could meet the eye.

In the last weeks, she had made herself drunk silly, boldly asking Harry if Ron liked her. Hermione was expecting him to say in a choppy voice, «_What… are you… talking about_?» but when he answered with a sincere – drunken but sincere - seriousness that Ron fancied her, she had been embarrassed beyond belief and the whiff of triumph she had felt was nothing to be reassured about.

_Talk about things you're not ready to acknowledge._

_But could Harry have lied about this? _

And there was the "bring me to bed" thing. Hermione winced as she remembered in a blur Ron helping her to her room and how he literally had to struggle with her so she would finally let go of him.

At least, she could pretend she did not remember that. Maybe that was the only defence for the Viktor incident.

_Ron, I swear, I truly don't remember_

_But why would I even bother – he's the one all worked out by this_

_It's not like I had control or something_

_When it's about Viktor, Ron is insane_

Ginny looked at her intently and jittered, the mattress squeaking under her, «Okay, Hermione. You said Viktor. Ron is not amused. Just tell him that you -» But Hermione was ruefully asking, «Did Ron act as Harry said he did?»

Ginny heaved a dramatic sigh and she retorted, «Hermione, _come on_. You were not awaking up and we were so worried about you. Ron _refused_ to leave your bedside. He sat up to you with a face I never saw on him before. What you have said _is_ said. I truly believe that it's no big deal. Stop whipping yourself senseless with this. He's going to pass his anger getting rid of the gnomes and when he'll be exhausted, you'll just grab him by the collar and talk to him. I may lend you my cupboard if you wish. It's a great place to sort things out.»

Hermione unconvincingly smiled at Ginny who jumped to her feet and scooped Crookshanks from the floor. The red-haired teen smiled but her voice was serious as she said, « Look, Hermione: Ron will willingly believe any rubbish rumoured about you if he thinks you fancy some bloke. I mean, some other bloke than _himself_. He's acting really possessive when it's about you, Viktor or not.» Ginny slowly stroke the cat and Hermione heard Crookshanks purring in a low, contented meow.

Hermione spoke back the most logical thing that came to her mind, « He's possessive when it's about you too.» Ginny's mouth gaped and her voice was harsh when she shot back, «_Hermione_, for the love of Merlin. These are not the same feelings at all and don't even try to convince me you believe that.»

As Hermione was trying to think about all the possible buts, Ginny spoke again with unusual intensity, «You guys really need to get this out of your system. You're my friend and as disturbing the idea of you willingly snogging my brother may be, you two are _killing_ me. Stop thinking and _do_ something, bloody hell. Life is too short to wait for it to happen. But what you really need now is rest.» Hermione could not find anything to say.

_Me kissing Ron_

_It's disturbing to you_

_Imagine how disturbing it is to me_

After exchanging a soulful look with Ginny who went out the bedroom holding and still stroking an ecstatic Crookshanks, Hermione brushed her hand against her stomach under her shirt and felt with the tip of her finger the small crescent shape mark now etched in her skin.

Hermione sat up on the bed and she lowered her hand to the floor next to her trunk she had started to fill up. She grabbed a heavy, leather bound album. Hermione dropped it off on her lap and she brushed the tip of her fingers on the leather, opening mechanically the album to a page she had looked at for a long time this summer.

On that magical picture Bill had taken, before considerably lesser happy moments, Ron had a bright smile on his face, his eyes squinting from the lights glowing in the stadium and one of his alarming long arms was circling Harry's shoulders. Harry was laughing and adjusting his glasses with one hand, waving cheerfully. Hermione looked at her own relaxed, smiling face as she was squeezing up to Ron to be in the picture. They were wearing those obnoxious rosettes from the Quidditch World Cup.

She had never realized it before, but it occurred to her this summer that on this picture Ron was leaning against her, his head tilted towards her. Hermione brushed her lower lip with two fingers. She could not imagine going back to Hogwarts without speaking to Ron.

She glimpsed at the picture a last time and she closed it with determination.

_But I can talk to him or scream at him _

_I can do that, no problem_

Hermione reflected with growing trouble that her two biggest challenges were to find _exactly_ the words to say and to ask herself if she _really_ wanted to say them.

_I'll have to think about that._

_Hermione is falling back into old patterns, as you may see. I hope I captured her ambivalence towards Ron and Ginny's no-nonsense attitude._

_Chapter 14 will bring them to Hogwarts with mystery, of course teenage pathos and –gasp - jalousy._

_To be continued._


	14. Father, Mother, Sons and Daughter

_Slight change of plan: I divided my initial chapter in two parts._

_I hope you'll enjoy this one._

* * *

**Chapter 14 **

**Father, Mother, Sons and Daughter**

The departure for Hogwarts was making Arthur Weasley nervous. There were the obvious reasons – Order's business was never to take on lightly and today was the scene to another assignment requiring, _yes_, constant vigilance.

Moody's paranoia was growing on him in a way he had not believed possible.

He inwardly recapitulated the plan: Moody and himself were the carriers. They were about to escort the kids to King's Cross. Tonks and Lupin were posted on Platform 9 ¾, disguised in Merlin knows what. They had been instructed to stay completely anonymous and not to approach the kids.

Clearly, Dumbledore had still in mind Sirius' shenanigans.

McGonagall and Snape were exceptionally posted on the Hogwarts Express. Dumbledore had the perfect pretext to assign them there: the O.W.L.S were finally delivered after the mayhem that paralyzed the Ministry for months following the Death Eaters' attack. The two professors were there officially to deliver the O.W.L.S to their respective students, but they were keeping a close eye on Harry. Molly was staying home to let in the owl Charlie was sending: apparently, a suspicious magic-induced uproar had been recorded in Romania.

Molly's eyes prevented him from uttering certain words he had tried to unsuccessfully eradicate from his sons' vocabulary as he heard the aforementioned Moody stop the car in front of the Burrow in a loud squealing sound. "Don't worry, honey. I'll drive the damn – I mean, the _car_ this time," he mumbled to his wife, who had already a reproachful look on her face.

Lately, to his astonishment, he had to scold his precious daughter about _her_ use of dirty words. "Talk to her, Arthur, _please,_" his wife had urged him, "she's turning into Fred _and_ George."

Arthur Weasley had watched his two youngest children this summer change in an unsettling way. He thought he had seen it all after Fred and George. Bill had not been much trouble at that age. He was an excellent student, serious, self-assured, even if he was also the object of devoted feminine attention the same way _he – _Arthur_ –_ had been a long time ago, as Minerva McGonagall once pointed to him with what _may_ have been a smirk.

Arthur was still not sure after all those years if she was mocking him.

Mr. Weasley smiled to himself as he remembered the frequent visits from owls during those previous summers: they were carrying a suspicious number of perfumed parchments adorned with _a lot_ of different handwritings… all for Bill.

His firstborn son used to read them with a perplexed eye and shrugged with an embarrassed smile when he teased him about all of it. Bill _did_ have that rough patch right after graduating from Hogwarts when he had slammed the Burrows' doors from anger during the first few weeks of the summer and Molly had mouthed to him, "Broken heart, Arthur. It will mend." And Molly was always right about those things; Bill had regained his usual composure after a while.

Charlie – brave, strong, even-tempered Charlie - had been too busy with Quidditch and studies to be truly rebellious, and Percy…

Arthur Weasley closed his eyes as he gulped a small sip of his boiling hot tea, wincing more from the sting of the memory than from the drink scorching his tongue.

Percy was a good student and a good boy. He still was, but Arthur had discovered the hard way Percy was easily blinded by power.

That idea sent a shiver down his spine. Arthur would have never believed it if someone had predicted him _this_ son of his would turn his back on them and become the unlikely rebel of the family.

Arthur's mother used to say each time he announced the birth of a son, "Don't forget, Arthur dear, boys are like Boggarts: if you fear they'll become toads, they will become toads. Take good care of your boys." He had thought his mother was trying to scare him: he never feared anything for Percy, as he was obedient, smart and ambitious.

Was he proud when Percy was hired at the Ministry! Arthur had realized soon enough that they were not the same, not at all, and maybe Percy was a little _too much_ of a good boy, a little too much obedient to other people but his family. Mr. Weasley had a sinking feeling for a while, believing that he had failed Percy by not advising him better.

_But would he have listened to me? I don't have the kind of power he's looking for._

Arthur half-heartedly understood Percy's desire to distinguish himself. After all, Percy came to Hogwarts after brainy Bill and Quidditch star Charlie. Arthur wondered if that had been difficult for his son, living in the shadows of both his brothers, even if Percy had nothing to be shameful about.

The thing Arthur Weasley could not accept was how Percy turned against _him_, against his _mother_, against his _brothers_ and _sister_ to fly in those high spheres, how Percy decided that _they_ were wrong and therefore rejecting what made him a Weasley.

He believed Percy would come to his senses one day, that he would understand why everything had to be done the way it was. Molly needed him to be strong and confident about this.

His heart was bleeding as he looked at that small wrinkle between her eyebrows, a line that was not there before Percy left.

And then there were Fred and George, his infuriating twins, always plotting some kind of incredible scheme…Merlin, he loved their guts. Arthur could not count the times he secretly tried the confiscated inventions in the marital bedroom. He was always impressed and almost drunk with amazement, "Molly! The twins are unbelievable! Can you believe that they invented a potion that colours the nails red/that dissolves undergarments/that turns nose hair pink? Look! They are geniuses!"

Molly would answer with an annoyed voice, "_Honestly_, Arthur. Come to bed now. You'll poison yourself one day. Geniuses need to do their homework too, dear. And you're _not_ going to work tomorrow with pink nose hair."

And now, Ron had developed multiple personalities. Ron was in the midst of teenage angst in a man's body. Arthur could not make head or tail of it. Ron had always been the simple, uncomplicated child, shrugging okays and following the flow. When did he turn into an explosive mix of shyness and buoyancy?

Ron who always shared his stuff without a peep with Ginny was suddenly secretive and skulking in a corner. Ron who was not the most articulate of his sons was unfolding to be the most sensitive of them all under his bravado.

Ron who was the best friend to Harry Potter…

Ron was loyal and unafraid, as much as a naïve teenage boy can be, thought Arthur. To his opinion, Ron was foolishly convinced that nothing could touch him or his friends if they stuck together. And now of course, Ron who was friends with Hermione Granger was not so innocent anymore.

Arthur had seen him ogling her this summer. He knew what was coming Ron's way.

Heartbreak.

Molly did not share his opinion about this, but it was crystal clear to him that they would be forever at each other's throat. "Ron is stubborn as a ram and Hermione is so… _bossy_," he had told his wife this morning in the kitchen. Molly had stared at him with that look that still managed to raise goose bumps on his skin, even after seven children and a load of hardships. She had a twinkle in her eye when she softly said, as she surrounded him with her arms, "That's what your mother thought about _me_." Arthur had chuckled and had tried to defend his mother, "She never said that, Molly. She said that you were _assertive_." Molly's giddy laugh had filled the kitchen and Arthur had felt perfectly happy for a moment.

Arthur swallowed a piece of toast as he waved Moody in. "Hello, Alastor," smiled Molly, "would you care for some breakfast?" As Moody's magical eye swivelled in its orbit, the ex-Auror answered, "It would be more than welcomed, Molly. Thank you." A thump in the stairs made Mr. Weasley lift his gaze and he faced Ginny.

His daughter sprung to the table, her eyes still clouded with sleep and her red hair draping her shoulders like a cloak. Arthur had seen her change in a way that he was not ready to acknowledge - not at all. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he smiled to her as she let herself fall on a chair. The huge hairy beast that answered to the name of Crookshanks jumped on her knees with a purr but she made it go down from her with a small pat on its behind.

Ginny smiled back to him and she helped herself to some tea. Arthur studied her face as she poured a cup. He could not help but feel immensely proud when she held out the cup for Mad Eye, "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Moody?" The man took it with a crooked smile and Arthur scratched the tip of his long nose. Ginny seemed to lure people under her spell with a simple smile these days.

Where was his baby girl? At Christmas last year, he had bounced her on his knees with mock effort to make her laugh. Whenever she had a serious face on her, he tickled her chin and said, "So what's bothering you, sweetie darling?" And she used to laugh it off and kiss him on the cheek with an overflow of giggles that made her brothers snort, "Nothing, sweetie daddy."

It was in the past now. He had tried it once this summer, one night she had eclipsed herself from the living room and he had found her sitting on the steps of the porch, a quilt around her shoulders. He had tried his dad trick and instead of her usual banter, she looked him in the eye, "I'm thinking about the war."

Arthur had felt his knees buckle under him: he sat besides her, stroking silently her hair as she curled up to him. He had tried to soothe her by saying comforting words, by saying that he understood why she was afraid. Arthur's stomach had shrivelled up into a knot when she bluntly said, "I'm not afraid for myself, Dad. I'm thinking that war is going to happen whether I want it or not and I wonder how we will all live through this."

After what happened in her first year at Hogwarts – raw anger flooded him - he would have almost wished that Ginny were afraid for _herself_. She would have taken another path instead of the one she seemed to be engaging herself onto. Seeing his daughter so strong this summer had terrified Arthur Weasley: he knew now that Ginny was not going to recoil or to dodge what would come her way. She was willingly bringing herself into it.

Arthur Weasley had two sons already up to their eyes in the Order: he had not told Molly about how Fred and George were working in their spare time on devices that would be useful to the Order, therefore making them unofficial members. With their Ministry adventures last spring, Ron and Ginny were now colliding head first with the war too. He had been so close to loose them…and Harry…and Hermione…

_What would have happen if Dumbledore had not been there? _

All his children were stubborn but Percy and Ginny were unmovable, "_almost_ as much as you are" emphasized Molly whenever he complained about it.

And now, his daughter had tied herself to Harry Potter with a smile and unexpected softness in her eyes– nothing more than innocent kisses, he hoped with a tinge of concern, she was _too_ young - but he had seen her determination, her fierce resolution to be a part of the tight trio Ron, Harry and Hermione had knitted through the years. She wanted to be the fourth Musketeer.

That was the other reason why Arthur Weasley was nervous about their departure for Hogwarts. His concerns for Harry's safety were also for his own children; they have bounded themselves to the boy in a way that was more than simple friendship now. Learning about the DA had made him see his youngest children in another light. He could not protect them anymore;he could notkeep them out of that reality.

It had crystallised the second Harry had opened the door in Privet Drive, Arthur had disguised his shock behind a smile: the boy was turning into James Potter. He had the same fearless, manly expression on his face but soon enough, Arthur had seen Harry-the-boy pierce back through the confidence armour. The poor boy was wounded deeply by Sirius Black's death, it was obvious and it broke his heart.

_What am I suppose to do? Would he think I'm an old snoop if I tried to comfort him?_

Arthur had seen him around the Burrow, smiling and laughing, but the usually startling green eyes had a new quality to them: uncertainty. Arthur believed that Harry knew now how much he had to loose.

_The kids are not kids anymore._

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat as Moody addressed him a sinister wink, while Ginny casted a suspicious glance upon him, "Lupin and Tonks have completed their _delivery_. It's safe."

Arthur Weasley's blood froze in his veins. He hated the idea: that woman, that _creature_ was going to teach his children. He hated the idea that something as foul as a Bearer, _this_ Bearer would be in contact with his flesh and blood, with _Harry_, for Merlin's sake. He had exposed it in a very passionate way to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had dumbfounded him after his tirade, in front of Snape, McGonagall and Lupin, "Now Arthur, I admire your devotion towards your family. Nevertheless, I have to admit I'm surprisedyou are unawareabout the previous friendship between that young woman and _your_ _flesh and blood_, as you say. I believe Bearers are greatly misunderstood; I encourage you to ask Bill about her. I am hoping you will trust him on this. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

The candy had left a bitter taste on his tongue, as he had felt snubbed.

_Dumbledore cannot be thinking that I'll swallow this like a piece of candy_

Arthur had felt betrayed when McGonagall nodded with her usual seriousness. Snape had almost brought him to his knees when he gave him an astonishing piece of information, in a low, silky tone that made Arthur's hair raise on his arms, "You must be _very_ proud, Arthur. Your son is _certainly_ courageous. _Befriending_ a Bearer and now a Veela. How _fitting_ for a curse breaker."

The Potions Master had not said much more but was adamant about bringing the Bearer in for her own protection – well, Snape never openly disagree with the Headmaster's opinions, did he? - and Lupin, who had seemed to be on his side to this moment, looked like he was now going Dumbledore's way.

Everything around the Bearer was rotten, including playing-with-fire Tonks: her Obliviating charms on poor Mrs Maddigan at the archives section of the Wizarding Workforce Bureau were such a disgraceful way to get information. She could have done it another way, he was sure of it.

His own wife had turned her back to him about this, but Arthur Weasley felt his intuition was right and he stubbornly attached himself to it. Doing business with a Bearer would contaminate the Order: she would bring discord and gloomy plans. It had already started. His usually easygoing relationship with his firstborn child was now tense.

_All this because of her._

After the meeting with Dumbledore, Arthur had stormed back home and he had gestured at Bill, compelling him into a room under Molly's astonished expression.

They had a heated discussion where Bill admitted that he knew her and that she used to be his girlfriend. "Your _girlfriend_? You went out with a _Bearer_ and now you're going out with a Veela! What's the problem with you?" had asked Arthur, his eyes betraying his irritated disbelief.

Bill had crossed his arms, "Fleur is_ part _Veela. Why do you care about the Bearer, Dad? It's been _years_ now. I didn't know she was one to begin with. And furthermore, I'm not a kid anymore, I don't owe you justifications about -"

Arthur had interrupted him, "Do you know the saying, Bill? _A Bearer's kiss is a_ –" and Bill had stammered back, tilting his head in a provocative stance, "- _a kiss from death_, yeah, I know that ludicrous piece of rubbish."

Bill had sneered, his eyes glistening, "But so you know, if this stupid saying was true, I would have been killed _lots_ of times. It's been ages since I've seen here and I'm still alive. I thought you would know better. You tolerate Lupin, do you, and he's a _werewolf_."

_He's decent, son._

_Don't scold me. You may be a curse breaker, but you haven't seen war yet. _

Arthur tried really hard to avoid patronizing speeches– his sons and daughter would never allowed him do so anyway – but he had the aching feeling that his kids did not understand how serious that second war was, the extent of it, and how illusions they may have about the wizarding world would shatter.

He had survived the first war: he remembered how naïve he was, how he believed good would triumph with simple willpower and an efficient organization. Then he had seen Molly's brothers die: he had seen duplicity, immorality, and how temptation to flirt with power lured people into Voldemort's web.

_People I thought I knew._

He was shocked when he had realized how _good_ can be tainted with trivial matters, personal agendas and fears of being cheated.

He had seen Sirius Black discreetly ostracize Remus Lupin for a head-scratching reason, and then turn wild –they all thought he was a traitor at the time, how could Sirius forgive them from letting him down? - and he remembered Alice and Frank Longbottom being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and… The list was interminable.

Arthur Weasley had gritted his teeth and had held his head straight, trying not to look too closely at the Order's members that were falling before him and holding Molly's hand as tight as he could. He tried to keep his gaze high, over the dead bodies, over the pained families: he focused on the arrival, the victory.

Images flew in his mind and he took his glasses off; he wished sometimes that his memory could be as myopic as his eyes.

He had watched his sons become men and making their own choice to follow his stance, all of them but Percy.

When they all believed that Voldemort was destroyed, after James and Lily's death, Arthur was almost as shocked to learn that their son had survived. Rubeus Hagrid had rescued the poor kid from the ashes and when Arthur saw him after that, he could not force any details from him. The only words Hagrid could utter were, "Terrible, terrible..."

And everything was starting again. It had started, and he had almost not survived the second war.

Arthur pushed back his plate with unnecessary strength. Molly had an inquiring look on her tired face and he managed to smile to her as he said, "We're leaving in two hours, Gin. You should go wake up your brother, Hermione and Harry." Ginny muttered, "Blimey…Thanks for the _chore_, Dad. Ron and Hermione. We're in for a glorious and happy ride to King's Cross."

Arthur would never have admitted it, but sending those two back to Hogwarts, war or not, was a _relief_.

OOOOooooOOOOO

Harry watched with apprehension a fed-up to his eyes Mr. Weasley shovel into the car trunk their luggage and their brooms. Mr. Weasley opened the door leading to the backseat of the car and pushed in an indignant Crookshanks, the insulted owls in their cages and his brooding son before turning towards Moody who looked disappointed, "I'm driving today, Alastor. Come on, you guys. Get in." Harry sighed with relief and he smirked at Ginny, who smiled gratefully at her father. As he climbed into the car and sat beside Ron, Harry felt a tinge of shame about his unwilling part to this never-ending drama between his friends.

The breakfast must have been awful to witness for Ron's parents – well, it had been a torture for _him_. Ron and Hermione ate their food without looking at each other, going to _stupid_ lengths to avoid speaking to each other. Ron had even asked Harry with an uncharacteristically polite voice, "Would you hand me the preserves, Harry?"

They were right in front of Hermione and Harry had to draw his arm in front of her to fetch them for him.

Hermione had not lifted her eyes upon Ron. She then said to Ginny, "They're announcing strong winds today." Ginny had stared at her with a puzzled look on her face, "Really?" Then, Hermione had smiled to Harry and she had enounced with a frightening voice, "Yes. And it's blowing in my face right now."

Of course, Ron's face blazed in all its crimson glory and he had shot back in an equally frightening voice, making Harry wonder how his friend managed to keep his cool this time, "Wow, I just remembered something so very interesting that _only_ brainy witches usually remember, Harry. Did you know that today is Lame Insult Day?"

Harry had gritted his teeth and scowled as Mrs. Weasley said with a surprisingly dry voice, "Enough, you two."

They were all crammed in the back of the car, Harry sandwiched between Ron and Ginny, Hermione at the other end of the seat. Mrs. Weasley had decided to stay home and Harry would have sworn he had heard Mr. Weasley whisper to her as he kissed her goodbye, "Lucky woman."

Just before leaving the Burrow, Mrs Weasley had kissed him on the cheeks and she had whispered under her breath, " I _know_ you can make them speak again to each other. Take care of my daughter, will you, Harry dear?" Harry had frozen on the spot as Mrs Weasley fingers flattened his collar. He had swallowed hard, his ears flushed and a weight sank from his stomach to his toes.

Now that he was sitting on the car seat, he was very aware that Ron and Hermione were looking into opposite directions. Harry asked himself if he was qualified for the high-level diplomacy that would be required from him in the next hours.

As Mr. Weasley was engaging the car on the paved road, Harry was overwhelmed by the urge to ask him to turn back and to plead Mrs Weasley on his knees to keep him for a few days.

_Alone, so I can take a break from those annoying, annoying snog-deprived idiots_

Ginny was glancing at him frequently with this stern look he had seen on her, and she seemed to be oscillating between annoyance and fatigue. Harry felt the car was too small when she whispered to his ear, "Well done, Harry. That plan was a _winner_."

_I deserve this one._

He must have look downright pathetic because Ginny's eyes softened; she covered his fingers with her left hand.

_Pink, warm, soft and freckled skin _

Harry absorbed himself in the sight, indulging into an egoistical recollection of one perfect cupboard snog, but Ron and Hermione burst his bubble when they turned and looked at each other. They slowly asked in perfect unison, ogling the other with mistrust, "What plan?"

Harry skulked in the car seat and Ginny gnawed on her nails. As a heavy silence loomed over their head, Harry thought that there was hope.

_Maybe I could loose them in King's Cross._

* * *

_Chapter 15 will bring you into the Hogwarts Express._

_To be continued._


End file.
